#I just wanna curl up in bed and only half exist

[redladydeath]

Normal, mentally well thoughts: Wow I wish I could get seriously injured or have a mental health episode so I wouldn’t have to catch up on my homework

[ink-n-shadow]

Thinkin’ about Price, who’s on med leave and under strict orders not to engage in any strenuous activity, begging his controversially young wife to take pity on an old man and fuck him.

Your daughter is born nine months later. You like to joke she exists bc your husband was actually home long enough to put a baby in you.

NOW YOU GOT ME THINKIN ANON—

MEDICAL LEAVE

𝜗𝜚 the one where john's finally home long enough to get you pregnant

𝜗𝜚 pairing: john price x younger wife!reader (reader is afab) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), age gap (price is in his late 30s, reader is late 20s), mentions of surgery/recovery, john having a pain kink (need i say more?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it/get tapped), unedited as usual, bad ending

"john, the doctor had strict orders for you to—"

you're cut off mid-rant by john slotting his lips over yours, the mitts of his hands covering your cheeks and tugging your face closer to his. his tongue juts out to lick needily at the seam of your lips, the faint taste of the painkillers he had just taken still fresh on his tastebuds only to be replaced by the sweet mint of your toothpaste.

john would've kept kissing you, too, if he hadn't tried to twist his hips over to face you, making him pull away sharply and hiss out at the way the fresh sutures etched in his ribs twinged in pain.

"john—"

"m'fine," john grunts out hoarsely as he lays back down flat on his back, eyebrows pinched low in the middle of his forehead and tongue licking at the remnants of your spit on his lips. "just wanna—christ—wanna be inside ya."

and that’s how you got to your current position, sitting directly behind john’s thick and leaking cock as you lean back to rest your hands on his hairy muscled thighs—anywhere that wasn’t sutured closed or bruised from the surgery he’d undergone. from beneath furrowed brows, your soft eyes focused on the molten heat buoying in his pupils.

“i don’t wanna accidentally hurt you, john,” the end of your sentence comes out pinched in a whine as the calloused pad of his thumb begins circling your sopping clit, your hips jumping at the stimulation and instinctively rolling forward against his sensitive cock.

john uses the thumb petting at your clit to distract you from the way he manhandles you up, notching the head of his cock between your folds and holding you there for a moment. “i don’t fuckin’ care if it hurts, ‘lright? don’t wan’ you stoppin’ until i feel you cummin’ ‘round my cock four times, and i fill up this pretty fuckin’ pussy—understand me?”

and even though john’s cemented into your shared bed on his back, he keeps you all nice and obedient under his thumb, using the hand he keeps groping at your hip as a way to guide the way your movements. every so often, his sutures would twinge in just a way to send a jolt of pain up his spine—but then he would feel your gummy walls gripping his cock just a little tighter, and the pain would warp into delicious pleasure.

you, ever the good little wife you were, did exactly as john told you—only pulling off of him when your fluids were a messy mixture between my thighs and you could barely walk to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

it didn’t even cross your mind when a month and a half later, you’re a mess of hormones and continuous morning sickness that threatens to knock you out from work for a couple days. john tells you it’s fine, that he’ll work some more late nights to cover your income for a couple days, but you’re determined to keep working.

only after nearly fainting at your home one morning (after john fucked you through at least 2 orgasms) did you find yourself on the doctor’s examination table, fingers nearly snapping john’s hand bones in half when he read off the positive pregnancy result.

and when your daughter is born nine months later (december 14th, by the way—a sagittarius baby), you’re curled up in the hospital bed with john holding you closely, the baby sandwiched comfortably between you two and grappling at one of his thick fingers.

“y’know how long i’ve been waiting for this?” you giggle out softly as you nose against john’s beared jaw, eyes fluttering closed and system overflowing with painkillers and endorphins. “guess you were finally home long enough to actually put a baby in me this time.”

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[lovebugism]

shy!reader wiggling her way into eddie lap bc she had a hard day 😫

You don’t know how to tell Eddie you miss him.

He’s sitting in bed right next to you, scribbling down notes in a worn composition notebook. You don’t even know why you miss him, only that the couple of inches separating you from him feels cavernous.

You don’t know what to say, so you sigh. A big, deep exhale that makes your chest deflate like a popped balloon. It’s sort of what you feel like, anyway.

Eddie’s chin brushes his shoulder as he turns to you, chocolate eyes wide beneath his clear-framed glasses. 

He knows that certain sounds mean certain things, kind of like a baby’s cry. You don’t know what you want a lot of the time — you know less how to express that you don’t know what you want — so Eddie’s learned to read you like a book. Most of the time, he knows what’s going on in your head before you do.

But the grieving breath you let out now is too ambiguous for him to understand. It’s too soft to be one of frustration, too drawn out to be contentment. He decides to check the boxes.

“Are you hungry?” he murmurs.

You shake your head in response, focusing on the book in your hand but not any of the words.

“Sleepy?” he asks. “‘Cause I, for one, could totally go for a nap right now, princess.”

You shake your head again, smiling a little this time at his word choice.

“Bored?”

Another head shake.

Eddie gives up. “A feeling neither of us can name because we don’t know what it is?”

You nod.

“I don’t think it even existed before now,” you mutter, half-joking.

The boy laughs. His pink lips match the apples of his cheek. You don’t know how to tell him you want to press your faces together until you’re made of the same vibrant colors he is.

“Is it cabin fever, you think? I’ve kept you hostage here for, like, two days now. Maybe you’re gettin’ sick of me.”

“You’re not holding me hostage. I asked to come over,” you remind him, giggling softly to yourself. “And I could never get sick of you, Eds. You know that.”

You lean over to nudge his shoulder with your own. Instead of sitting back up again, you linger just against him. You find you feel a lot better now, finally touching him. The gnawing feeling is less loud but still there.

Eddie smiles in silent understanding. “Wanna hug?”

A beat passes. You feel a little bit lame for wanting it so desperately. You nod anyway.

Eddie sighs as he sets his notebook on the mattress beside him. It’s not an unhappy one. It’s not an underwhelmed one, either. It’s just a breath, really — a clean, deep inhale-exhale he can finally take, knowing you’re about to be in his arms.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he ushers with his arms spread open. “My body’s always free real estate for you.”

“Ew,” you giggle at the unintentional connotation, sliding closer to him. You duck your burning face away from his in attempts to hide the wide smile on your mouth. Eddie sees it anyway and grins back.

He lazes against the headboard while you settle against his chest, one hand wedged between your bodies and the other curling around his side. You tuck your face into the curls at his neck. He smells like nicotine and floral shampoo and skunk weed. You don’t know how to tell him you need him to lay all his weight on top of you until his natural scent becomes your own.

His chin rests on the crown of your head. He smooths a hand up and down your back. “Is this what you wanted? Just needed my strong arms to feel better, huh? Is that it?”

You know he’s joking, but you don’t laugh. You shrug. “Kinda…”

“Kinda?” he echoes. His contorted face is audible. “Do you need something else?”

He’s not bothered by it, the fact that you want something more — just curious as to how he can make you feel better.

“I don’t know…” you murmur, wriggling against him like you can’t get comfortable. “It’s just… I need to be closer, I think.”

“Closer, huh?” Eddie muses, wrapping his arms more intently around you and squeezing you tight. He presses his lips to your hair. “Honestly, I don’t know if we can get any closer than this… Well. I mean, we could, but I have a feeling that’s not what you want…”

You shake your head against his chest at the implication. You need everything but the sex right now — the holding, the contact, the tangled limbs.

“No, I just… I think I just need to… I don’t know…” you mutter, almost inaudibly into his chest. You hold him tighter. “Would it be okay if I…”

Eddie’s brows raise beneath his bangs as you trail off. You’re getting better at it, at vocalizing when you need something, but the words are hard to form sometimes, and he gets it. He did fail senior year English two times, after all. 

“You don’t have to ask for anything, you know?” he assures, practically cooing, punctuating his words with a kiss to the top of your head. “Whatever you want, you can just take it. It’s all good with me, babe.”

His words give you a minimal boost of confidence. 

You part from him, lips pursed to the side of your mouth. Eddie eyes you attentively with slow and owlish blinks behind the thick lenses of his glasses. You don’t know how to tell him you want to swim in his chocolate syrup gaze or taste the stars that twinkle inside them.

“I just wanna, like…” you trail off. You never end up finishing your sentence, actually. Without words to describe the overwhelming, unnamed feeling, you just crawl into Eddie’s lap and wrap around him like a koala.

Your thighs settle on either side of his hips, arms curling around his neck as you tuck your face into his wild hair again, pressing your chest intently against his own. 

Eddie sighs into your shoulder; it trembles like a faint laugh. His palm smooths over your back, pushing you further against him until the laws of physics prevent either of you from coming any closer.

You exhale slowly. For the first time, Eddie feels you relax against him.

“Is this better?” he mumbles into your cheek.

You nod into the side of his.

Your chests move together with each of your slow, even breaths — rising for a few seconds, stilling for a moment, then falling for a couple more. You think your hearts might be beating in the same rhythm, too.

That gnawing feeling behind your ribcage turns to sunlight.

[janeyseymour]

Fire in My Heart pt 2

for @milfjuulpod who asked for a second part :)

Summary: You and Melissa host a barbecue where the crew officially meets you for the first time. Melissa is nervous, to say the least.

Part 1

WC: ~4.1k

Her friends from work are coming over today for a barbecue. They’ve all been here before. The only differences this time around are that they know you exist now, and you’ll be there. But even before, they’ve been here. It was always owned by the two of you. So when Melissa wakes up that morning in a panic, you really don’t understand why.

“Babe,” you whine as she tries to roll out of bed. You pull her back to your chest. “C’mon. I wanna lay here with you.”

“We’re having guests today,” she says as she tries to fight out of your arms. “We have things we have to prep.”

“You did most of your food prep last night,” you remind her as you kiss her neck gently. You nip at her again before she can say anything.

“We have to clean the house,” she tells you, matter of factly. Then she lets out a small groan at your affections. 

“The house is spotless,” you mumble into her skin. “Mel, your friends have been here before. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is,” she whines. “They’re meeting you for the first time, and I want it to go perfectly.”

“Since when do you care what anybody at work thinks besides Barbara?” you chuckle softly.

“In case you forgot, Barb is coming,” your girlfriend tells you. “And I do weirdly care what they think.”

“And I’m sure it will be just fine,” you try to assure her.

“It’s never too early to start,” she tries to argue.

You look over at the clock on your bedside table. “Honey, it’s… 7:15 in the morning. They aren’t coming until three. C’mon. Just lay here with me. I’m tired, and I want to spend time with you before things get crazy.”

“Twenty minutes,” she tells you sternly as she stops trying to wiggle away from you. You grin as you hold her close. She stretches to press a gentle kiss to your cheek with a grin. 

You manage to fall back asleep, and when you wake up again, Melissa isn’t curled up with you anymore. You roll your eyes and slip on a pair of shorts before heading downstairs to see what she could possibly be up to at… 8:27 in the morning. You’re somewhat shocked she didn’t wake you after the promised twenty minutes had passed, but you’re grateful for the extra hour of sleep.

With a yawn, you enter the kitchen. You can tell she already made breakfast, and there’s a pot of coffee calling your name.

“Mel?” you call out.

“In the yard!” you hear her voice float in from the screen door. “Your breakfast is in the microwave waiting for you!”

You grab your things with a tired smile on your face before heading outside and sitting at the table. The redhead is currently on her hands and knees pulling out weeds from the potted plants the two of you keep.

“Babe, take a break and come sit with me for breakfast,” you sigh as you let the hot steam rise from your coffee into your face.

“I’m weeding,” she sighs.

“No one is going to- well, Gregory might, if what you have to say about his gardening is true,” you shake your head. “But come on, Mel. It’s only 8:30, and they won’t be here for another six and a half hours. I think you can spare ten minutes to sit with me while I eat.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” she rolls her eyes as she stands and dusts herself off. She goes inside to grab her own coffee before sitting next to you.

“Oh, c’mon, hon,” you try to pull her into your lap.

“Y/N, I’m covered in dirt right now,” she tells you as she bats your hand away from her body.

“I’ll shower,” you snort and pull her all the way into your lap. She huffs playfully but gets comfortable on top of you, kissing your hair. 

“So, what’s on the agenda today, my love?” you ask as you take a bite of your breakfast. You know she wants today to go perfectly, and you really don’t feel like dealing with a Melissa Schemmenti meltdown before her friends come over.

She smiles at you before rattling off the list of things she wants to accomplish before they come over.

“I can handle the living room if you want to handle the kitchen,” you offer. It’ll help the two of you cross things off your list faster, and you won’t be in her way while she’s finishing her food preparations and setting everything out. “When I’m finished that, I’ll clean the grill and run out to grab some more propa-”

“I already got it,” your girlfriend says sweetly. “It’s in the trunk of my car. You just gotta bring it around back. I also picked up some more beers and seltzers. The only thing you might have to pick up is another bag of ice to put in the cooler for the drinks.”

“Anything for you,” you tell her as you kiss her shoulder. You notice how tense she is. “Honey, it’s gonna be fine. We really don’t even have all that much to prep today, so we can take our time, yeah?”

“I’m just nervous,” she admits to you. “I want this all to go perfectly.”

“It’ll go just fine, Mel,” you promise her as you finish up the last of your french toast. You pat her back. “Alright, up. If we’re going to get you to calm down by the time your friends get here, we have things to do.”

You finish cleaning up the living room by 10:30. You’ve cleaned the grill and put in the new tank of propane by 11:15. The beers and seltzers that your girlfriend bought are sitting in the mudroom waiting to be taken outside by 11:25. The cooler is sitting right next to it.

“Babe?” you wander into the kitchen, twirling your keys around your finger. She’s standing at the island trying to set up the charcuterie board she’s insisting on making. You snake your arms around her waist and set your chin on her shoulder. “How many people are we having over? Because damn did you buy a lot of drinks.”

She shrugs as she continues to set different meats on her serving board. 

“Well, they’re all inside,” you relay to her. “I’m off to go grab the ice to put in the cooler. Do you need anything else? Or maybe want to take a break and come with me?”

“Can you pick up another thing of brie?” she asks you. “And maybe some chocolate covered almonds?”

“I can do that,” you chuckle. “Anything else? Maybe some Xanax?” you tease.

“Hey,” she pouts.

“Brie and chocolate almonds,” you repeat to her. You silently make a note to also pick up a bouquet of flowers for her. “Got it.”

“Thank you, hon,” she sighs quietly. She pauses for just a second to press a quick kiss to your lips. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” you laugh as you give her one more gentle squeeze and peck her cheek. With a playful toss of your hair, you release her and head out to the store.

When you return, you quickly dump the ice into the cooler and arrange an assortment of drinks into the container. You make sure to take two out of the pack to take in with the cheese, almonds, and flowers. 

“Mel?” You call as you walk into the house.

“Outside! Backyard!” you hear her voice float into the house.

“I’m putting the brie and almonds on the counter,” you tell her as you set them down. You make your way outside with the flowers and drinks, and she’s currently rearranging the chairs. “Hon.”

“What? I’m making sure that the seats are- some are in the shade and some are in the sun,” she tells you as she continues fussing over them. She has yet to look over at you holding her favorite flowers.

“Melissa,” you sigh. You set down the drinks you brought out and take her by the shoulders. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay. People can move the chairs as the sun moves.” You kiss her gently and hand her the flowers. 

“You got me flowers?” she asks softly.

“I did,” you tell her. “I thought they might help calm you down… I also brought beer.” You jut your chin out in the direction of the drinks.

“You’re too good to me,” she shakes her head.

“That ain’t true,” you roll your eyes. “I’m treating you the way you deserve.”

You let her go and crack open her beer for her before taking a sip. It’s an IPA, and god… she laughs at the face you make. You hand it to her with disgust.

“Why do you always take a sip when you know you’re going to hate it?” She asks as she brings the bottle to her lips.

“I like sharing with my girlfriend, but Jesus Christ does that stuff taste like dirt,” you quickly open your own seltzer to get rid of the nasty taste in your mouth. You sigh in content. “So much better.”

She takes your can and takes a small sip of it. “Eh.” She puts both drinks down on the table and starts fussing over the chairs again.

“Honey,” you sigh. “I think everything looks fine. Why don’t we go inside, finish up the charcuterie board, put your flowers in a vase, and then… I don’t know about you, but I need a shower.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively. She smacks your shoulder playfully but nods.

After a longer shower than anticipated… the two of you get dressed and ready for your guests.

“Help me set the sides out?” she asks softly, and you can tell she’s getting more and more nervous again.

You frown at the way she’s balling up her denim over-shirt in her hands. You nod. Usually, you let her do it because she’s rather meticulous about it, but she’s asking for your help, and you’ll do anything to make her life easier for her. You let her instruct you on where to put things and what spoons to put where and- “Hon! Don’t put the plates on the edge of the table, or Janine will knock ‘em all over the floor!” 

“Sorry, babe,” you apologize. She’ll say she’s sorry for snapping on you over something so stupid later, but right now she’s stressed and you’ll just let her be. It’s for the best that you just let her so her thing. You put the plates exactly where she wants them.

“Just let me do it,” she finally snaps and snatches the cups from you. “Jesus.”

“Mel,” you look at her with furrowed brows.

“Sorry, sorry,” she sighs. “I’m just-”

“Stressed,” you finish for her. “I know. But it’s all gonna be fine. Everything looks gorgeous, including you. Now, I’ll let you handle this while I grab the cooler from the mudroom and take it outside, but you need to take a deep breath and try to reset, or you’re going to lose it.”

You head into the room over to grab the cooler before she can say another word. You take it outside and grab another seltzer for yourself and a beer for her.

“I grabbed you another,” you tell her as you head for the bottle opener hung on the fridge. You take yet another sip of her drink, fully knowing you’re going to hate it, before passing it to her and looping an arm around her waist.

“I’m so nervous,” she admits to you as she leans into your embrace and takes a rather big swig of her beer. 

“It’ll all be fine,” you promise her. You kiss her head, and the doorbell rings.

It’s Barbara who is first to arrive, and you can see the way Melissa relaxes when her work wife comes in with a big grin, a bottle of wine, and immediately goes to give you a hug. 

“Barbara, this is-” Melissa goes to introduce the two of you.

“The woman who has so graciously allowed me to keep burning my candles at the school,” the kindergarten teacher grins. “Oh, thank you so much, honey.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” you say quietly as you hug her back. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Barbara chuckles as she pulls back from you to give Melissa a quick embrace. “But this one and all her secrets.”

“Y/N was never a secret of mine,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “Youse never asked, so I never had the opportunity to tell.”

The veteran teacher hums. “Where can I put this?” she gestures to the bottle of wine still in hand. 

Your girlfriend ushers her friend into the kitchen and dining room, showing her the spread proudly. You stay in the living room and fiddle with the television to try to put on some music to have in the background. They’ve just opened the wine and have barely started to chat about the chaos of the day before when the doorbell rings.

“Mel? Do you want me to get it?”

“Yeah, hon,” your girlfriend calls back. “That’d be great, thanks! Did you want a glass of wine?”

“I’m alright, but thank you,” you tell her as you go to the door. On your front stoop is Janine, Gregory, Jacob, and Mr. Johnson. You take a deep breath before opening the door with a smile. 

“Hey, come on-”

“Y/N!” Janine grins. “It’s so nice to meet you! Well, actually meet you because we technically met at the fire safety meeting that you had to hold, but you know what I-” Your girlfriend was right. Her coworker does talk a lot.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Janine,” you tell her. You nod in the others’ directions as well, also saying their names.

“Oh, you know all of our names already!” Jacob says, and he looks pleasantly surprised. 

“Mel talks about you guys every night when I get home from the station.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Of course I know who you all are.”

“Even me?” Mr. Johnson asks from the back.

“Yeah, Mr. J. Even you,” you chuckle, and the janitor looks mildly impressed. 

“Well, come in. Barbara is here already. There’s drinks outside in the cooler, there’s some stuff to snack on out in the kitchen, and I’ll probably get the grill going around four.” You usher them in, closing the door behind the last of them, before heading into the dining room yourself. 

“Melissa!” Janine and Jacob exclaim at the same time as they lay eyes on the charcuterie board.

“Yeah?” the redhead raises a brow.

“This looks exquisite!” the history teacher grins. “I didn’t know you could do stuff like this!”

“I ain’t just cheesesteaks, wings, and beer like youse all think I am,” your girlfriend deadpans. “I got some class.”

“It looks amazing!” Janine tags on.

“Thanks, kid,” Melissa smiles. “So, I’m sure Y/N already told you, but there’s drinks outside, there’s snacks in here, and you can hang in or out. It don’t matter.”

Everybody heads outside to pick out a drink, and you take the opportunity to pull your girlfriend in close. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“I know,” she says softly. “But you know how I get.”

“I know,” you tell her. “Just know I got you.”

Your fingers intertwine as the two of you follow your guests out to the small little backyard you have. She lets you go so you can pull a chair up next to her, and the second you’re sitting down, her hand is resting gently on your knee. 

“So… I wish we could say we’ve heard all about you,” Barbara chuckles. “But we know your name and that your the chief of the fire station.”

“That’s me,” you chuckle. They all lean forward for more information. “What do you want to know?”

“Guys, don’t grill her,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “She’s a private person like me.”

“I’ll answer,” you squeeze her hand gently. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Jacob says immediately.

You sigh. “I was born in Philly, I grew up in Philly and wanted to be a firefighter. Always thought my redheaded teachers were hot… ended up meeting Mel at the bar, rest is history.”

“She said the two of you have been seeing each other for three years?” Barbara asks. You nod. “And you’ve been living together for the last year and a half?” You nod again.

“So you know she’s hit that,” Ava says loudly as she walks into your backyard. 

“Ava!” Melissa whips around and glares at the principal.

“You know I’m right,” the woman shrugs as she closes your gate. At the exasperated look everyone is giving her, she rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking about it.”

“Hello, Ava,” you chuckle and smile in her general direction.

“Don’t flirt with me,” she tells you, making a face. “I don’t need Melissa threatening to kick my ass and all that.”

“I won’t threaten,” the redhead says quickly. “I just would do.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” you laugh and squeeze your girlfriend’s knee. “I only got eyes for my girl. Redheads, man. Redheads.”

“If you show up to school on Monday with red hair,” Melissa points a finger at her boss. “Don’t think I won’t kick you ass.”

You settle yourself at the grill, away from all of your girlfriend’s coworkers. You need a few minutes to yourself. They’re a sweet bunch, but you’re beginning to understand why Melissa is only super close with Barb. You get why she comes home exhausted, claiming that if you thought the kids had a lot of energy… Janine and Jacob were another story. 

Those two are currently dominating the conversation talking about god knows what when you feel someone wrap an arm around your waist. You turn, and of course it’s Melissa.

“Hey, baby,” you say softly, kissing her head as you flip a few burgers.

“You doing okay?” she asks softly, and she hands you a new seltzer. You nod as you flip a piece of chicken. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you promise her. 

“What do you think?”

“I think I’m going to have to take a twenty four hour nap when they leave, but they’re a sweet bunch. They really care about you,” you tell her.

The Abbott group has nothing but great things to say about the meal the two of you put together.

“Have you guys considered a catering business?” Gregory asks. “I even like this,” he says as he eats his plain chicken.

“Seriously,” Mr. Johnson says. “Between the two of you…”

“Maybe in another ten years,” you chuckle. “She’ll retire, I’ll step down from the station, and we can start a business. What d’you think?” You look at your girlfriend.

She has an almost unreadable face for a minute before she breaks out into the biggest grin. “In ten years.” She nods.

The clan ends up staying longer than you expect. You even pull out the small firepit the two of you keep in the mudroom. By the end of the night, you’re a little tipsy, and Melissa’s had more than a few IPAs. You’re sitting in her lap, an arm slung around her neck as she has a steady hand resting on your hip.

The two of you have yet to leave each other’s sides, really- neither of you have even broken the seal. But finally, Melissa has to give in.

“Be nice,” she tells them sternly as she pats your hip. You let her up and take her seat. She sends threatening glares to each of your guests before heading into the bathroom.

“So…” Barb drawls out once her friend is out of earshot. “Three years?”

“Three years,” you confirm. “Hopefully many more.”

“Why her?” Ava asks. “You could have anyone.”

“Melissa is home,” you say simply. “She has been since our second date. I’ve known since our second date, she’s it.”

“Oh?” Jacob leans forward and prompts you to continue.

“I suppose I should clarify: our first date was impromptu at the bar. She got stood up, I was there after a… rather rough shift, and I don’t know why because I never do this, but I worked up the courage to hit on her. We closed down the bar, and our second date was three days later- when my schedule allowed me to see her again. We had dinner here, and I-“ you sigh happily. “She was just… more than I could ever expect in a woman. I knew I couldn’t let her go.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Janine can barely contain the squeal that leaves her body.

“She’s my person, you know?” you ask, like a lovesick puppy.

“That’s how I feel about my husband,” the kindergarten teacher says softly, a smile on her lips. 

You lean forward to make sure the redhead isn’t coming or around the corner before glancing at Barb. You take a deep breath. “I got a ring.”

“You what?” the veteran teacher gasps.

“I got a ring hiding at the fire station,” you admit. “I’m gonna ask her soon, but I wanted to meet you all before she just showed up with a ring outta the blue and engaged.”

“That is so sweet!” Janine grins and she grips Jacob’s hand. “You have our approval!”

“I wasn’t really looking for it,” you tell her gently, but she doesn’t care.

Melissa returns, and she sees the way that everyone in her friend group is looking at you- like they approve of you.

“Dammit, Y/N,” she breathes out as she sits down in your lap. “What’d you tell them.”

“That you’re my girl,” you say honestly. “That you’re home. Stuff you already know.”

“Oh, god. You didn’t tell them anything else?” she asks, nervous you exposed her soft side.

“No, hon,” you assure her. “All from my brain, none from yours.”

“Well,” Barbara sighs. “I suppose it’s getting late, and Gerald is expecting me home tonight. But, it was absolutely lovely to get to official meet and know you a bit better, Y/N.”

“I guess we should all start heading out,” Gregory says when he catches the yawn you try to fight away. He takes Janine’s hand in his own.

“Don’t be a stranger,” the custodian says as he stands from his chair.

“Your tasty ass is welcome anytime at Abbott,” Ava winks at you. She then raises her hands defensively. “Melissa, I’m joking!” 

“Alright, get out, all of you,” the redhead shakes her head playfully. “I’ll see youse all on Monday.”

Once her friends are gone, you help your girlfriend clean up the place- as much as you can with the exhaustion setting in. Really, all you do is put out the fire and then help put a few of the dishes into the dishwasher and put away the last of the food.

“We can finish this all tomorrow,” Melissa tells you as she wraps her arms around you.

“It’s okay,” you mumble. “I know you don’t like waking up to a dirty house.”

“You’re tired, I’m tired,” she sighs into your shoulder. “We can clean up the rest tomorrow.”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh as you start to practically drag the two of you in the direction of your bedroom.

The two of you prepare for bed, and before you know it, you’re laying half on top of her.

“So, you actually liked them?” the teacher asks you.

You hum. “Sweet group. Told you you had nothing to worry about.”

“I know, but I-”

Talk more tomorrow,” you whisper. “Tired, Lissa.”

That’s how she knows you’re beat- you only call her Lissa when you’re utterly exhausted.

“Okay, babe,” she chuckles quietly. She presses a gentle kiss to your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumble, already on your way to a deep sleep.

Meeting the Abbott crew hadn’t been that bad- it was fun, even. You knew from the second everyone had walked in, they approved of you. Because you make their favorite feisty teacher happy. But you’re absolutely drained, and you fall asleep against your girlfriend, ready to continue on with this life that the two of you had built together- without hiding. Soon hopefully, she wouldn’t have to introduce you as her girlfriend of three years, but instead as her fiancee. 

[dawn-moths]

"Sunflower in the Summer Rain"

Thoma x Female Reader x Ayato

word count: 21,500+

(You’ve been working at the Kamisato estate for a while now and have caught the eye of both your cheerful colleague and your stoic superior. However, after they discover that each other has feelings for you, they have to come up with a plan so they don’t have to fight over you and risk losing each other's friendship. So, as long as you’re ok with it, they suppose they’ll just have to share.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! mostly fluff with smut at the end, slow burn, threesome, size difference, friends to lovers with thoma, mutual pining with both, some hurt/comfort with both, really both of them are sweet to you and wanna take care of you, polyamorous relationship, aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

The soft rays of dawn’s light spilled in through the windows, flooding the estate with pale, buttery light. At this time of morning, the house was as still and silent as a ghost, only the brief shuffle of the first arrivals scraping lightly across the polished floors as they made their way down to the housekeeping quarters to report their attendance and change into their uniforms.

You covered a yawn, dragging your feet a little as you followed suit, still feeling groggy and half asleep. Sometimes it felt like you never left this place. Like you only spent your unconscious hours inside your own home, curled up in bed, as if the idea of rest existed only in a dream.

But that was the life of a housekeeper, you supposed, especially if you worked for a family as prestigious as the Kamisatos. You were the first to arrive and the last to leave. Well, you, specifically, were usually running a little late, but after getting scolded by the head housemaid yesterday for your habit of tardiness, you figured you’d better not do anything to get on her bad side again anytime soon.

“Hey!”

You turned when you heard the familiar voice calling out your name, Thoma’s smile greeting you from across the way and causing a soft, sleepy grin to spread across your face.

“You’re here early!” he remarked merrily as he paced closer to stand before you, always a morning person no matter how many hours of sleep— or lack thereof— he had gotten the night before.

With a light scoff, you responded with a slightly dismal, “Yeah, well, one more write up and I might not be working here anymore…”

“Oh, c’mon!” Thoma chuckled, the sound like the sun coming into view as the lingering clouds parted in the sky. Hands on his hips, he then lowered his voice to a whisper and gave you a playful wink as he said, “Y’know I’d never let that happen.”

“Yes, well…” you rolled your eyes, retaining your lighthearted smile as the hint of something slightly sarcastic tried to work its way in. “We both know that you’ll never lose your job. Not when you’re best friends with the boss, at least.”

Thoma walked beside you now, taking note of your state of exhaustion and asked, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

You shot him a glance that was almost guilty, apologetic as you vaguely admitted, “Technically, yes, I did.” And then, unable to bear the weight of his concerned stare, you added on after another yawn, “For a couple of hours, at least…” Before he could begin to lecture you about how important getting enough rest was, you turned the question onto him. “But what about you? How is it you’re always so full of energy this early?”

Thoma grinned, but it was a little crooked, like he was hiding something. “Ah, y’know… Same as you, probably. But when I started to think about all the work that needs to be done this week I got a little restless…”

When the two of you reached the housekeepers quarters, you temporarily parted ways while you changed clothes and took stock of all your supplies. You started waking up a little more once you began to shift into work mode, but you had a feeling today was going to be a long one.

“Which wing are you assigned to?” Thoma asked once the two of you rejoined, traveling down one of the long hallways side by side once again, Thoma making sure to match your stride so as to avoid causing you to rush to catch up to him.

“West, I think…” you answered a little unsurely, suddenly doubting whether you’d read the posting correctly or not. “What about you?”

Thoma never stayed in one wing for an entire day. He was always bouncing from one corner of the estate to the next, making sure any and all loose ends were tied up, visiting you when he had the chance, and then, of course, attending to some more specific work the eldest Kamisato had entrusted him with. You also knew that Thoma was the only member of the housestaff allowed in Ayato’s personal quarters. You’d tried to press him for details about what it was like in there before but all Thoma seemed to offer in response was that it was big and, as expected for someone who was rarely there, kept meticulously organized.

“Have you ever found anything interesting or weird in there?” you’d curiously inquire. “Does he collect anything? What’s the coolest thing he owns?”

But Thoma would always avoid your questions, just saying something along the lines of, “I’m in there to clean, not spy on him,” and that would usually be the end of that conversation.

As you two exchanged some more last minute small talk, you let out a big yawn, which Thoma then caught, leaving him smiling a little and joking, “I better get going before your sleepiness rubs off on me.”

You cracked a grin and rolled your eyes. “Better watch out. Too much time around me and you might start spontaneously napping.”

Thoma let out a chuckle. “Can you imagine?” he said, and in all truth, you couldn’t. Even on his most busiest, exhausted day, Thoma was somehow able to put on a mask of energy and delight and get the job done. On one hand, you envied that ability in him, on another, it sort of freaked you out.

“Well don’t push yourself too hard,” you reminded him. “Even you need to sleep eventually. Besides…” You tipped your chin up, turning your body halfway in the opposite direction of him, nose sticking up in playful mockery as you perched your broom before you like a sword stuck down into the stones, a valiant weapon for a fearless soldier, so long as clearing dust bunnies was considered an act of selfless bravery. “If you don’t watch out for your health, maybe I’ll rise up the ranks and become Master Kamisato’s new head housekeeper instead.”

Thoma let out another one of those bright bursts of laughter. The careless kind. The kind that sounded so genuine, even at something as ridiculous as your little comment. “You wish!” he teased, lightly nudging at your broom with his foot to send you stumbling off balance. You stifled a giggle as you regained your stance and went to swing the sweeping end of the broom at him, purposely missing but still causing him to jump back a pace or two.

“Just ‘cause you’re the only one of us who regularly sees the head of the Kamisato clan face to face doesn’t mean that he’s not still keeping an eye on the rest of us,” you reminded Thoma with a little more sternness. You then took up a much more conservative posture, pretending to sweep the already spotless floor as you concluded with, “He could be watching us right now, for all we know.”

“And what about that?” Thoma gestured to the ring you were wearing and you quickly clapped your other hand over it. You knew wearing jewelry while on duty was prohibited, and if the head housemaid caught you wearing it you’d be written up for sure, but still, you just couldn’t help yourself.

“What about it?” you replied, a little defensive. Thoma had never ratted you out before. Would never even consider it. But that didn’t stop him from worrying that someone else might. All he gave you in response that time was a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. You knew the rules. He didn’t have to remind you. Besides, no matter how many times he’d tried, you never seemed to listen.

“Ok, well, just remember…” he sighed, “I can only bail you out so many times.”

Thoma strolled by to pass you, knocking down your proper and professional act as he tousled your hair, the simple motion earning him a disgruntled whine of, “Thomaaaaaa!” before sending you back into a fit of giggling as you danced about the confines of the hall around him, movements swift and excited as if urging him on into a chase.

“Just keep up the good work and you’ll have nothing to worry about,” he quipped, shooting you one of those boyishly devious smirks from over his shoulder as he continued on his way. “Or else I’ll have to tell the boss you’ve been slacking off!”

“Yeah, right!” you called after him, your voice echoing slightly through the spacious halls. Thoma turned the next corner and was gone, off to begin his long list of work for the day. If you were lucky and stayed on schedule, you might get to see him during the afternoon break. That chance alone was enough to get you moving doubletime. Meanwhile, as you began your work, you used the secret version of him you kept tucked into the corner of your mind to help pass the time.

Thoma was like the sun, you always thought— bright and warm, his presence alone enough to boost your mood and energy. Once, you’d grown brave enough to tell him that to his face, and since then he’d started to joke that, if he was the sun, you must be his pretty little sunflower, always turning towards him to open your vibrant petals.

That’s usually when you’d give him a nudge, tell him to get back to work as you tried, and failed, to wrestle the awkward smirk from your lips, feeling your ears growing hot with his flirtatious comments, however seemingly innocent they might’ve been intended to sound.

But, for as long as you’d worked as a maid for the Kamisato estate, your housekeeping colleague had never tried to make any real moves on you. Every time you thought maybe today would be the day he finally asked you on a proper date, even if the opportunity presented itself, Thoma seemed to insist on continuing your shared game of will they won’t they.

Thoma liked to see you smile, make you laugh, and— when he was feeling a little mischievous— become the reason for your flustered giggling and blushing cheeks. But, unlike most of the other patrolling guards, shopkeeps, and various locals who’d tried their hand at pretty words to woo you, he was the only one you actually gave the time of day.

Which was why this game was becoming rather frustrating.

Most days, you wished he’d do something. Anything. So much as a gentle brushing of his hand against yours, a sultry glance that turned into both of you holding each other’s stares for a little too long to read as just friends, a hand on your hip to guide you closer to him as he reached above you for something high up in a cabinet that you couldn’t quite grasp…

The golden haired, gleeful boy with the kind green eyes and sunshine smile had captivated you, as you were sure he had many of the other female housestaff— even some of your male co-workers, as you’d heard through the quiet mumbling and gossip that drifted through the distinguished halls after hours— yet you couldn’t allow yourself to get your hopes up too high.

Because you didn’t have reason to believe that Thoma’s attentive and genuine disposition towards you was exclusive.

Sure, you’d never seen or heard him interacting with others the way he did with you, besides the fact he was generally pleasant with everyone, if he could help it. Yet still you continued to hope and wish and pray that maybe tomorrow he’d drift a little too close to be regarded as professional.

But so far it seemed like you were just another sunflower in his garden, rooted deep into the warm earth and destined to only admire him romantically from afar.

At least you two could share lunches together, pick little samples from each other’s bento boxes and then laugh when one of you tried to toss up a piece of food and catch it in your mouth only to completely miss, sending the morsel rolling across the tatami mats or into the freshly raked sand gardens. Taroumaru would come scampering by to clean it up, if you two found yourselves working at the Komore Teahouse that day.

You usually preferred getting assigned to Komore Teahouse because that usually meant it would just be you and Thoma, providing you plenty of time to banter and several opportunities to slack off. You hoped you’d end up back there again in the near future, but for now, having been assigned to the main Kamisato estate and all its arching architecture and opulent wealth, generations of strict tradition and strategic marriages subliminally laced into every hand-crafted piece of furniture or masterfully painted portrait that lined the wide, spanning halls, you’d just have to settle for the bits and pieces of his time and attention you could get.

Snapping from your daydreaming, you returned to your previous task. You did have use for the broom in your hands, after all, same as the duster at your hip and the rag tucked into the pocket of your skirts.

The West Wing needed to be tended to so that the Kamisatos could host a very important meeting in one week’s time. Something about discussing the Yashiro Commission’s new role among the Tri-Commission what with the Vision Hunt Decree recently being abolished and all. Anything else you knew about it was merely pieces of gossip you’d overheard being shared among the other housestaff at the end of the day.

Like a majority of the other maids, you’d never seen the master you served in person, as he was both extremely busy with work that often sent him away from the estate and, in the few and far between moments he was home, skillfully elusive to the public eye and much more inclined to seek out the solitude within his own domain.

Maybe, if you were lucky— you imagined as you washed windows and mopped floors— you’d get a chance to catch a glimpse of the head of the clan for yourself over the coming days. Because, as was another tidbit of chitchat you’d overheard from some of the nosier maids, Ayato Kamisato was said to be extremely handsome. A gentleman too, from the sound of it. Every shred of speculation you collected about him, the more your curiosity grew eager at the prospect of catching just a glimpse.

As you pondered before the window you’d just finished cleaning, you absentmindedly began to fidget with your ring. It was your most prized possession— the only real reminder you had left of home. Not the tiny apartment you currently resided in, but the cottage of your childhood, a space nestled among the sloping valleys of the Inazuman countryside, a quiet refuge from the hustle and bustle of the city. The one where your mother and younger siblings still lived.

A home you may never get to see again before it was empty, you sometimes feared, but then reminded yourself to work hard so hopefully you could one day return.

And wasn’t it a little ironic? You’d gone off to care for the home of someone who was rarely ever around to enjoy or appreciate it, yet you missed yours so much it often made your heart ache, only able to carry around its memories.

It wasn’t until the head housemaid snapped at you to stop daydreaming and get back to work that you realized just how long you’d been gazing wistfully out the window, skittering along to return to your chores.

***

Ayato rarely had a moment to rest.

His packed schedule and endless itinerary of business related travel and events meant that he was away from the comfort and familiarity of his own home more than he was among it.

But, as he’d been reminded of since being born into such a prestigious and powerful bloodline as the Kamisatos, and as the eldest son no less, he was expected to carry out his duties as head of the Yashiro Commission with poise and precision.

Yet, the mysterious figure, though revered by most, was not without his criticisms…

“He’s arrogant.”

“He indulges himself too much!”

“He has a mischievous streak…”

All valid observations, Ayato noted privately, yet still he contemplated a way to eliminate them from the public sphere.

His housestaff had their own opinions of him too. More favorable, perhaps, but still troublesome, if left unchecked.

“He’s so handsome.”

“I think he looked directly at me today!”

“He even has a Vision. Imagine how powerful he must be…”

Ayato Kamisato had handpicked every single guard, butler, maid, chef, gardener— you name it— himself. He had the power to keep them, even if some of his advisors thought some of the female staff were a little too pretty for Ayato’s own good, and he also had the power to let them go, no explanations required.

But, even with every body type, facial structure, complexion, hair color, and temperament to choose from right under his own roof, Ayato only had one who’d really caught his eye…

You.

While you were among the newer batch of young and excitable maids— so honored, so grateful to be working for such a distinguished clan as the Kamisatos— he had still found himself drawn to you quickly.

Not just because of your unique and effortless beauty, the mixture of your feminine softness and boyish banter, but because he had a feeling— after all the years observing various kinds of young women both inside and outside of his influence and control— that you were different.

What you searched for in people wasn’t wealth or status or pedigree.

It was kindness and humor and empathy.

And he’d observed you with Thoma, the natural way you two interacted, how quick you both could put smiles on each other’s faces— like two mirrors reflecting joy back and forth between each other, all familiar warmth and tenderness.

He saw you two become playful, heard your lilting laughter echoing down the halls, sometimes catching the little quips you threw the housekeeper’s way when he started getting a little too rowdy, only for him to shush you and remind you to be mindful of the volume of your voice, which usually just earned him an eye roll and a mocking repetition of his previous remark.

You were a little firecracker, at times, a delicate, flickering flame at others, swaying back and forth over the polished floors as you hummed a melancholy tune during your chores.

Ayato wanted to get to know both sides of you, the same way Thoma had.

He wanted you to show them to him willingly, not only engage in them when you thought no one was watching and then hide them away like a fox burrowing into its hole when a superior— especially the head of household— walked by, scared into hiding by the hunting hounds.

But Ayato knew he was different too. So different from you. Different from Thoma. Different from all of the people who got to walk through their lives saying and doing as they pleased.

He knew that, unlike most of the other maids, with his name or title alone, he could never win you over. He’d have to bear his heart, such a fragile, guarded thing, and be prepared for you to still deny him.

The very thought terrified him, shook him to his core.

Ayato had faced perilous battles, outwitted dangerous foes, navigated through the years with the attitude of someone who was used to getting what they wanted but the mind of someone who knew they couldn’t really have everything.

So, now that he was back in some sort of proximity to you, the eldest Kamisato continued to watch.

He collected your effortless smiles and gentle laughter like secret, shiny trinkets, only ever getting close enough to remain invisible, often tucked around the corner of his study with his back pressed to the wall, sneaking careful glances through the crack in the door when you hurried by to meet the beck and call of the head housemaid and receive your next assignment.

At night, when your work was done at the main estate, he’d gaze out the window of his study and find himself smiling as your little silhouette strolled through the zen gardens below and disappeared around the grand front entrance gates. He’d try and catch you arriving in the morning sometimes too, but was rarely ever awake early enough to beat you to the beginning of your busy schedule.

But perhaps that was why Thoma had gotten to you first, been able to create a little nest of affection in your heart. The golden haired boy was like the sun, and you his sunflower, always opening your vibrant petals and turning them his way, letting him see the joy he’d helped nurture and create.

For Ayato, someone of the moon and the stars and the storming rains that came and went in the night, most times the only indication left behind that it had happened at all being the water sleek pavement the morning after…

How could he ever expect you to open up your petals to him?

You might as well have lived in two different worlds.

Yet, perhaps, if Ayato were to find his moon passing the sun in a rare eclipse, then maybe, just maybe, he could bask in the gold of your flowers, even if only for a fleeting moment.

***

“All done for the day?” Thoma pleasantly inquired, wearing his signature smile and posed in a confident stance. You’d just returned the cleaning equipment to the downstairs supply closet and he’d made you jolt as you came up the stairs, not expecting to see him standing right around the corner.

“Yeah,” you sighed, clutching your heart and wearing a worn out expression, though still trying to pep yourself up a little bit to match his unwavering amiable energy. “Finally… This upcoming meeting has us all working overtime.”

Eventually, you and Thoma began to walk out together, chatting about the quickly approaching event, all the importance surrounding it and how every detail had to be precisely in place when the day finally arrived.

For now, you could kiss your hopes of being sent over to Komore Teahouse for the afternoon goodbye. It was going to be crunchtime at the Kamisato estate until the conference commenced, only being able to relax once the very last guest exited through those gold embellished entrance gates. At least, you’d be able to relax until the next day when your endless list of chores would inevitably begin again…

“You know Ayato— uh— the Yashiro Commissioner, don’t you?” you promptly amended, unsure if it was improper to refer to the master you served by first name so casually, even if it was around a fellow colleague and trusted friend.

Thoma nodded, holding the door open for you before following behind and exiting the grand mansion for the day, the sunset over Inazuma painted with its usual lavenders and peaches, periwinkles and golds. “Sure do,” he replied. Then, without you even needing to ask he elaborated, “I may be his housekeeper, but I’m also his friend. Same goes for Miss Kamisato— Ayaka— as well. I’m not as close with his sister but, from my experience, she’s as kind and dignified as they come.”

“But what’s he like?” you then pressed a little further, your curiosity about the mysterious figure getting the better of you yet again. “I mean, when he’s not being the Yashiro Commissioner, is he still all like, proper and elegant or however everyone describes him all the time?”

Thoma smirked to himself.

The Ayato that he knew— the real Ayato— was still graceful and gentlemanly, yet carried an edge of mischief and frivolity. When he shared this with you, you perked up a bit, hungry to learn more.

“And, god, he’s so good at strategy games!” Thoma exclaimed, half in frustration, half in awe. “I swear, I must’ve played him at least a hundred times in shogi— never beat him once! Friend or not, he doesn’t go easy, and he definitely doesn’t ever let anyone win!”

You felt a crooked smile work its way onto your face then, breathing out an amused puff of a sigh from your nose. “So all you guys do all day is play games?” you asked, sounding a little sardonic. You then leaned on Thoma’s shoulder, your sudden weight sending him slightly off kilter as you whined, “C’mooooon, Thomaaaa! I wanna know about him, not how good he is at shogi!”

At this, your colleague raised a brow, catching onto your true motives now. “Oh? Why so curious all of a sudden? What—?” Thoma spun on his heel and walked backwards to face you, causing you to stumble off balance for a moment as your support beam vanished before straightening yourself and huffing out another annoyed sigh. When you met Thoma’s eyes next, the sunlight warmth he usually gave off was gone. Now, his emeralds held a darker quality, something lurking far below the surface and waiting to strike. “Think you have a chance at getting noticed by Ayato Kamisato, himself?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, quickening your pace to pass him and taking the lead in your routine after work stroll. “Please,” you scoffed, tone pulled taut and a bit strained, like the string on an instrument gone out of tune. “I could care less about that, so long as I keep getting my paychecks. What I’m saying is…” Now it was your turn to spin around to face him, the pebbly path under your feet shifting and crunching with each step. “It’s all just a bit strange, isn’t it? That, out of everyone who works for him, you’re the only one who sees his face on the regular. Have actually talked to him— hung out with him!”

Thoma wore a proud, almost mocking look, until you concluded your point with an only slightly cruelly satisfied, “Perhaps Master Kamisato doesn’t have an eye for maids in general.”

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself when Thoma’s expression dropped, instantly jumping to his own defense with a less convincing stammer of, “Ayato and I are not— He’s not—! We’re just friends!”

Feeling rather mischievous that evening, you turned back to walk forward and responded with a lilting tease of, “Whatever you saaaaay…” before you heard Thoma click his tongue, catching him shaking his head out of the corner of your eye.

“You’re just jealous,” Thoma shot back, catching up to stride directly beside you.

“Of your rich boyfriend,” you retorted, “well, obviously.”

Thoma threw an arm across your shoulders and pulled you into his side, ruffling your hair around and making you shout in mostly unbothered protest until you both were laughing with each other again.

You wished that your walk home would last a little longer on nights like this, when you were both having fun poking at each other but always in a good-spirited and harmless way. Just as the skyline of Inazuma City came into sight from down the hill, you began to fidget with your ring when a sudden realization hit you.

“Shoot!” you exclaimed in a hushed breath, beginning to double back the way you’d just come.

“What?” Thoma called after you, watching as your hurried walk morphed into a frantic jog. “What is it?”

“I forgot something back at the estate!” you shouted over your shoulder, your jog now becoming a run. “Just go on without me! Sorry!”

You didn’t quite make out what Thoma responded with, your heart beat already pounding in your ears as you willed your legs to go faster, cursing yourself for making such a stupid mistake.

You just hoped that you made it back in time to retrieve your most prized possession before one of the lingering maids discovered it, mistook it for trash, and discarded it.

***

As you burst back into the maids’ quarters, your heart fluttered with relief upon finding that your beloved belonging was not lost to you, but then, as it registered to you who was currently holding said belonging, your stomach sank with a deep, heavy dread— your heart an anchor plummeting beneath choppy waves.

Even without the family portraits whose frames you relentlessly dusted and polished day in and day out, so used to studying the careful, oil paint strokes from the art pieces, you still would’ve recognized him. 

Ayato Kamisato was, after all, the kind of man you’d remember even after one quick glance.

“Such interesting craftsmanship…” the Yashiro Commissioner remarked, almost as if to himself, as he gripped the tiny wooden ring between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to the light and staring through the middle, examining it. “I wonder, was it made from a Thunder Sakura, by chance?”

Absolutely dumbfounded, you stood in the doorway, chest still heaving with the remnants of your panting breaths, ears slightly ringing, hair tousled from whipping in the wind, and eyes wide as the master you served locked stares with you.

If the head housemaid had been around, she would’ve smacked you upside the head and hissed at you to bow and show some respect, but you were all alone.

Just you and Ayato Kamisato.

Not another soul in sight.

Your brain was spinning, thoughts leaving your head almost as fast as they could enter it, and you felt a prickling heat rising up your entire body, your ability to speak suddenly lost to you.

You flicked your wild stare back to the ring, the dark, polished wood that— just as Ayato had perceived— was indeed forged of Thunder Sakura, gleaming under the low light.

On days like today, when the floors needed to be scrubbed by hand, each crack in the bamboo boards tended to meticulously, you left your prized ring on the table at your station to ensure it wasn’t damaged by the soap and water that had your hands so dry by the end that they— especially during the bitter winters— would split and crack.

You always made a point to put it back on as soon as you were done, returning all the supplies to your station and being reminded where you’d left it before departing the estate.

But today had been such a long day. By the afternoon you’d been sent running from one wing to the next, too much work to be done and never enough hands when an event as important as the upcoming one was only a few days away. So when one of the maids you were friendly with offered to return your supplies back to your station as she was already on her way, your exhaustion answering for you before your logic could chime in, you’d obliged.

Hence, ring left behind, panic ensuing, and now, as you blinked a few times to refocus your vision, the head of the Kamisato clan in your very presence.

“I’m assuming this is yours…?” Ayato spoke, voice low and soothing, as if trying to prove he wasn’t a threat to you. Next thing you knew, he was standing before you, his shadow engulfing your form, making you feel small under his presence, his gaze calm yet calculating. He held out the ring to you but, despite how worried you’d been about leaving it behind, you were now rather hesitant to take it. Because, as you dared to look up at him to meet those lilac eyes, you realized that the rumors about him couldn’t even begin to match up to the real thing.

The eldest Kamisato wasn’t just handsome and elegant and gentlemanly— He was intimidatingly so.

He was overwhelming, almost god-like in presence with his regal stature and all that ivory fabric cascading down his slender, toned form. Fastened at his hip was a sword, the hilt gleaming with silver and obsidian, tendrils of aqua winding through it with a pulsing glow, as if the weapon were alive.

You shuffled back a half step, swallowing hard. Too bad it did nothing to ease the nervous lump that had formed in your throat.

“Am I wrong…?” he then asked, drawing back his extended hand a fraction, more distance between you and your only piece of home. But as he prepared to close his gloved fist around the object, you found your voice.

“No—!” you blurted out, a crack in your voice causing you to turn a new shade of red. After clearing your throat, you restarted with a slightly calmer, but no less urgent, “It is mine. I left it behind by accident. I…” Ever so slightly, your quivering little hand began to reach for his where your ring sat, dwarfed in his massive, gloved palm. “Can I… Can I have it back, please?” You seemed to remember your manners then, sucking in a quiet gasp before forcing yourself into an awkward bow, adding on a panicked mutter of, “Master Kamisato, Sir.”

Ayato curiously considered the ring in his hand before training his gaze back on you, a soft smile forming across his previously stoic features. Then, before you could even begin to register what was happening, he was gently placing his gloved fingers under your chin, guiding your gaze back upwards until you were standing, your entire face flushed, a dangerous dizziness overtaking you for a moment at the unexpected contact, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“There’s no need to be so nervous,” Ayato nearly whispered, his lithe fingers still lightly cupping your jaw. For a reason you couldn’t quite place, you felt the threat of tears welling in your eyes, your body beginning to tremble as you stared up at him, unable to tear your eyes away despite wanting nothing more than to snatch the ring and run.

You opened your mouth to speak only for a small squeak to emit from the back of your throat, any more sound than that sure to break the dam you were trying so hard to hold back.

“Here…” Ayato removed his touch from you, used it to take one of your hands in his own, and placed the ring into your open palm, his other hand gently clasping around yours to close your fingers around it. You’d gone numb, not even fully realizing that the object was back in your possession. “Be careful not to lose it again,” he seemed to warn, though with that mischievous, deviously playful air Thoma had told you about laced into his words. With a wink you’d figured you’d imagined, he concluded with, “I may not be around to recover it for you next time.”

And with that, Ayato Kamisato disappeared around the corner, leaving you standing in the doorway of the empty maids’ quarters with your closed fist held out before you for an amount of time you’d lost track of. Maybe it had only been a few short minutes, or perhaps until the sun had sunk fully beneath the horizon that you’d been waiting for your body temperature to lower and your senses to return to you, the weight of the ring weighing heavier in your palm than it ever had before.

When you opened your fist to view it, part of you expected your hand to turn up empty, as if the entire exchange had been some sort of odd and delirious dream. But there it sat, the dark wood still gleaming under the low light.

You slipped it back onto your finger, your hands still slightly shaking, and hurried from the estate, only sure that not too much time had passed once you stepped back out under the sky and saw the moon barely glowing from between the darkened silhouettes of the clouds, the horizon still lined with the thinnest sliver of gold. Yet still, the entire way home, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking…

Had Master Kamisato’s warning been a command to stay vigilant, or rather, had it been a hint on how to possibly run into him after hours again?

***

The following few days of work proved more difficult than any other you could recall.

Whereas normally your constant stream of daydreams helped make your day go faster, your current fantasies only distracted you in all the wrong ways, caused you to misplace things most considered far more important than some old ring, and had your head spinning to such an extent that you often bumped into fellow housestaff in the hallways or had your shoulder colliding with the wall when turning a corner.

“Get your head out of the clouds!” The strict head housemaid had scolded you when you’d accidentally stepped back too far and knocked over a bucket of water meant to clean the windows, several surrounding maids rushing over to soak up the mess before it seeped into the expensive carpet. “Keep acting so negligent and you might find yourself searching for a new place of employment!”

You didn’t know what was wrong with you, but after that, you’d locked yourself in one of the servants’ washrooms and cried, head in your hands and trying to keep as quiet as possible.

“Hey…” a familiar voice spoke softly following two gentle tapping knocks at the door. Instantly, you perked up, holding your breath and keeping still in hopes that they’d think they’d only imagined hearing someone behind the door and continue on.

But Thoma knew you better than that. And you knew him well enough to know that he’d never just continue on if he even suspected you were upset.

“C’mon…” he sighed, a rare sadness twining through his tone. “I know you’re in there…” He leaned against the door, and from under the thin crack you could see his shadow slightly shift. He crossed his arms, lowering his voice to something a little more soothing, and pleaded with you, “Just let me in… You know you can talk to me…”

Before you’d made a conscious decision to let him in, you were reaching forward to crack open the door, falling back into the corner and looking over at him with fresh tears welling in your eyes as he slowly entered the tiny bathroom.

His eyes widened once he saw you, all that jade cracked with concern as he closed the door behind him and shut the both of you into the cramped space, barely enough room for the two of you to stand without breathing each other’s air.

But you were too upset to care about personal space right now, and you surprised the both of you when you reached forward to hug him, burying your face into his shoulder as your body shook with a new wave of sobbing.

Thoma wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head, lightly stroking his fingers through your hair, murmuring, “It’s ok… It’s alright… Everything’s gonna be fine… I’m here…”

Oddly, that only made you cry harder.

Because it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. It wasn’t like he could just tell the head housemaid she couldn’t fire you, that it was up to Master Kamisato and Master Kamisato alone who remained employed under his order or who was let go. It wasn’t like Thoma and the head of the Kamisato clan were close enough to—

You looked up at Thoma, the realization hitting you and forcing an awkward, embarrassed smile to spread crooked across your lips. Upon seeing this expression, Thoma turned a little nervous.

“What are you…?”

“Please, Thoma…” you muttered, sniffling and hiding your face in his shirt again. “Please don’t let him fire me… Please… I need this job. If I lose it I—”

“Whoa— What are you—” Thoma took you by the shoulders and held you out from him just far enough to look you in the eyes, his gaze darting frantically back and forth between yours. “What are you talking about? Why would you be fired? You—”

You looked like you were about to start crying again, so Thoma quickly amended with, “Look, no one’s gonna fire you, ok? Sure, the head housemaid can get… a little ahead of herself sometimes but, trust me…” He smoothed some stray strands of hair away from your face, reaching over to grab one of the towels hanging by the sink to dab away the salty streaks shimmering down your cheeks. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. Ok?”

You nodded, unable to meet Thoma’s gaze but feeling the gratitude that had sparked in your chest for him finally catch flame, reminding you of all the times he’d cared for you— not just now, but ever since the beginning. Ever since you’d been the newest face at the Kamisato estate, a small town girl already overwhelmed by the opulence you’d be expected to maintain on your first day before any of the real work had even begun.

Thoma, who was always there for you with a snack in between shifts.

Thoma, who insisted on walking you home.

Thoma, who would always look out for you, whether you worked with him or not.

“Hey…” he cooed, taking your chin in his fingers and lifting your gaze to meet his. Just like—

You froze.

Just like Ayato Kamisato had done.

The catalyst that had started everything that had led to this breakdown in the first place.

“You know that, right?” Thoma lightly pressed, and you could see it in his eyes, how badly he wanted— needed— a direct answer from you. A truthful answer.

Your lashes fluttered, blinking rapidly to try and clear away some of the mist in your vision, and replied in a low murmur, “I— I know…”

And then Thoma was leaning in, his lips nearly ghosting against yours, close enough that you could taste the strawberry mochi he’d had for dessert on his breath, and you closed your eyes, anxiety brewing but not enough to cause you to pull away.

Because how long had it been since you’d wanted this— wanted him— whether you were willing to admit to it out loud or not?

“Hey—!” someone called from beyond the door, giving three harsh bangs to further signal their impatience. “How long are you gonna be in there?!”

And then you and Thoma flinched, retracting from one another, shuffling as quietly as you could and knowing that, if the person was still waiting outside, things would only be worse for you if you were caught in that close of quarters with a male member of the housestaff.

“What should we do?” you whispered, worried.

“Just wait…” Thoma replied through a disappointed sigh. “They’ll get impatient and go find somewhere else.”

Sure enough, after another thirty seconds, you both heard an agitated huff and the sound of footsteps trudging off down the hall, clearly having grown tired of waiting.

“I’ll go out first,” Thoma instructed quietly. “Wait a few minutes then just return to work.”

“Thoma, I—”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, cracking the door open to take a peek outside. “Everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll even talk to Ayato, if that’s what it comes down to. But for now…” He slipped out of the tiny bathroom, closing the door and speaking to you through the crack, “Just do the best you can, kay?”

He flashed you one last smile before closing the door, leaving you alone once again.

You stood there, almost as if in shock, until you felt like several more minutes had passed. When you emerged, you fell back into line with the other maids, kept your head down, and hoped to evade the head housemaid for as long as possible.

But that night, you didn’t walk home with Thoma. In fact, you hadn’t even seen him for the rest of the day.

So you left the estate on your own, fidgeting with your ring and fighting the urge to relive all the previous catastrophes over and over again in your head.

Because lately, you felt like you were one mistake away from ruining everything.

***

“You’re friends with quite a good number of the maids, are you not?” Ayato suddenly thought to ask Thoma one day while the housekeeper was accompanying him on his afternoon errands.

Thoma thought nothing of it, simply shrugged and answered, “I guess you could say that, yeah.”

Ayato hummed out a note of contemplation, his gaze falling upon a jewelry stand they were passing by, a silver ring with a chunk of crystal marrow glittering among the other precious gems— cor lapis and jade, ruby and sapphire.

Ayato stopped to examine the ring closer, the night he’d found yours returning to his mind.

You’d been hard to read. Nervous, obviously, and rather upset at thinking you’d lost something that belonged to you. But unlike most of the other women Ayato crossed paths with, you’d seemed genuine.

That scared Ayato a little bit.

It also excited him.

Because you were a challenge, like one of his strategic games.

He was going to have fun figuring out how to win you over, and though material gifts seemed the easiest route to take, it was also a test.

Because if that was truly all it took to sway you, then maybe you weren’t the kind of girl he really thought you were.

If that were the outcome, it would be disappointing, yes. But Ayato was a busy man. He didn’t have time to give his affection to just anyone.

“And what of that one maid…?” Ayato continued to casually pry as he lifted the silver ring from its bed, studying it closer, the shopkeep nearly holding his breath upon watching the clearly very wealthy man surveying his wares, hoping for a purchase. “The one who’s always with you?”

Thoma’s pleasantry dropped, his tone turning dark, accusing. “What of her?”

Ayato met Thoma’s eyes, caught off guard by his housekeeper’s— his friend’s— sudden shift in mood. He placed the ring back, the man behind the stand exhaling with disappointment as Ayato and Thoma moved on.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Ayato assured his friend, their slow stride now veiled in an uncharacteristic tension. “It’s just… You two seemed close so I wasn’t sure if you…” His sentence trailed off.

“We’re not together, if that’s what you’re implying,” Thoma admitted, clearly dissatisfied with that fact. “But the other day I—” He stopped short as a ball came rolling their way, three little boys skidding to a halt from up the path as they watched their toy tumble towards the strangers. Thoma grabbed it up, gave them a smile, and tossed it back, earning a trio of thank you’s and a fading chorus of shouts and laughter as they went running off again.

Ayato knew Thoma had a habit of being effortlessly kind. It was one of the things that had drawn him to the Mondstadt native, at first weary that his courtesy came with some ulterior motive only to learn that Thoma was just a rare breed within Ayato’s circle of upper class company.

Even for someone who had so much less than the Yashiro Commissioner, the housekeeper always seemed to have more to give than any rich elite Ayato had ever encountered.

“The other day…?” Ayato tried to guide Thoma back on track.

“Oh—” Thoma then seemed to remember, the remainder of the confession seeming to fluster him, even in front of his trusted friend. “Well, I almost kissed her.”

At this, Ayato was able to hide his surprise, though just barely. Because, while the emotion didn’t show on his carefully controlled features, the strain in his voice said otherwise.

“You almost kissed her?”

“Yeah…” Thoma kicked at the dirt, staring at his scuffed up shoes. “But then we were interrupted and… I dunno…” He met Ayato’s eyes then, and if he noticed any jealousy, he didn’t make it known. “I guess I’m just afraid I’ll overstep somehow. Like, what if that’s not what she really wants, y’know?”

Ayato nodded to himself, buying some time to organize his thoughts before strategizing his next move. Because Ayato now found himself caught in the middle of things— pulled back and forth between supporting his friend or selfishly taking what he wanted for himself right from under him.

He knew the power he held, but also knew that exercising that power in this situation meant jeopardizing his carefully established trust with Thoma.

“Have you ever thought to ask her?” Ayato said.

“Ask her what?”

“Well, what she wants, of course,” Ayato clarified. Thoma continued to look confused, oblivious. Ayato sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If you know what she wants, then that would help you understand the right thing to do, would it not?”

Now it was Thoma’s turn to nod to himself, rolling that idea over in his head. “I guess you’re right…” he muttered. “Though, I suppose the timing wasn’t really right anyway.” Thoma chuckled a bit, saying, “I doubt she’d want to remember her first kiss with someone while she was in the middle of crying.”

Ayato’s eyes widened. “Crying?” His concern was unmasked. “Why was she crying?”

Thoma recounted what he knew of that particular situation, how the head housemaid had had it out for you that day and the stress of the approaching event was wearing you down. To this, Ayato immediately decided to give you the next two days off, let you decompress a little.

“It’s not like one maid missing will really hinder things…” Ayato shrugged, then looking to Thoma for confirmation, asked, “Right?”

Thoma, though knowing how busy the maids had been as of late, couldn’t disagree that some time off would be beneficial to you. “A few days couldn’t hurt. Pretty sure we’ve got most things in order for the meeting at this point anyway…” And, if it came down to it, Thoma would have no problem picking up the slack for you.

Ayato smiled, soft yet guarded, too afraid to let the outside world read his true emotions as easily as you and Thoma so carelessly expressed. “Brilliant,” he concluded, clapping Thoma on the shoulder. “Though, similar to the maids, I, too, am looking forward to the end of all this commotion and anticipation.”

Thoma and Ayato shared a laugh and prepared to double back towards the estate. Ayato could only dodge his responsibilities for so long before one of his advisors noticed, after all. On the way back, however, he couldn’t help but stop at that jewelry stand one more time, the same crystal marrow ring catching his eye. That time, with the shopkeep even more blatantly eager, Ayato bought it, tucking it into his pocket to save until the time was right.

“Who’s that for?” Thoma teasingly asked, always trying to guess what kind of girl the head of the Kamisato clan was currently courting, since Ayato never seemed to give him a straight answer about it.

“I’ve decided to start a new game,” Ayato replied vaguely, though with no absence of that mischievous smirk. “And this…” He held the ring to the sky, ensnaring the brightly glowing sun within the silver loop like he intended to trap it, to claim it for his own. “This is my strategy.”

***

When you’d been informed that you’d been given two days off, your first thought was not, “Oh thank god, a well deserved break”, it was, “Oh, I’m fired alright. This is just an excuse to keep me away while they find a replacement.”

You were restless for most of those forty-eight hours, pacing about, mind spinning and unable to focus or relax or sort anything out like you should’ve been doing, now that you’d been given the opportunity. But Thoma had stopped by your apartment one night, brought you something special for dinner, and as you’d shared the meal together he’d helped ease some of those worries.

“So I talked to Ayato,” Thoma admitted during dessert, “told him what was going on, and everything’s fine. It was his idea to give you time off…” Thoma slid another strawberry mochi— his favorite— onto your plate. “So cheer up!” You’d given a weak smile, a vague attempt at reassuring him, and perhaps possibly yourself as well, that you believed him.

And for a little while, you did.

You believed that everything was fine.

Once you returned to work and got back to your regular schedule you’d almost forgotten about the conflict completely. But all of that changed the very next time you laid eyes on the master of the house, catching a blur of periwinkle and ivory rounding the corner near his own personal quarters.

“Oh— M-Master Kamisato…” you stammered as you gave a rigid bow. “Please excuse the intrusion… I wasn’t aware you’d be at the estate today, I—”

Ayato hummed out a note of gentle amusement. That was all it took to silence you. You straightened your posture and blinked a few times as your vision focused on him, surprised to find him smiling.

“Please, no apologies necessary,” Ayato assured you, already beckoning you towards him with a wave of that elegant, gloved hand before saying, “Do you have a moment? There’s actually something I wanted to show you.”

Stunned and frozen in the conflict of indecision— because what would the other maids say if they found out the Yashiro Commissioner himself was inviting you beyond the doorway of his private rooms? But also, who were you to deny a direct order from the master of the house?— your mouth hung slightly open with the words of polite denial desperate to escape, yet found themselves trapped behind your teeth, some of them getting lodged in your throat.

“It’ll only take a moment,” Ayato then insisted. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously, though ultimately complied and hurried past him and into the room where he then closed the door behind him.

You felt ridiculous, your hammering heart and nervously fidgeting fingers making you feel like you must’ve looked like a wreck around him, getting all worked up when this was all probably just something to do with tomorrow’s meeting. Just an important, albeit last minute, detail that he’d just grabbed the first staff member passing by to assist him with, right?

But then the night that you’d first run into him flashed through your mind again. You felt the gentle way his fingers had lifted your chin, the ghost of that curious lavender gaze coming back to haunt you. He’d even winked at you, made you feel like maybe he’d meant it as more than a joke when he’d alluded to the fact that if you left your ring lying around again he’d have cause to come see you.

But who am I, a bitter whisper hissed in your mind. Who am I to think for a single second that someone like him would want anything to do with someone like me?

Outside of your cleaning services, that is.

“The other day…” Ayato began, slowly pacing over to the counter of his vanity while you remained standing stiffly not too far from the doorway. “I was walking the halls and came upon something that I believe might belong to you.”

Instinctively, you reached for the finger that you wore your ring on, afraid the little piece of carved Thunder Sakura had slipped from your grasp again. It was secured exactly where it was supposed to be, and you didn’t make a habit of wearing other jewelry, especially while you were working, so you had no idea what it could be that he was alluding to.

Ayato plucked up the shiny Crystal Marrow ring, the rare gem glittering under the light even from across the room, and held it out to you, once again drawing you strategically closer to him. He said, “This wouldn’t happen to be the same ring you lost just recently, would it?”

As you cautiously approached, your gaze shifted from him to the ring that— you both knew— didn’t belong to you.

Ayato was watching you carefully, keeping track of your hands to see if one would try to hide the other, cover up a lie before it left your mouth, but all your hands did was clasp and wring tighter together, your throat bobbing with a particularly hard swallow.

“That’s…�� you began, as if unsure. But then you met his eyes again, his gaze as unyielding and unreadable as ever, and you shook your head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not mine.”

“Oh?” Ayato tested, pretending to examine the ring closer before once again extending it towards you. “Are you sure? I thought it looked like the one I recovered down in the maids’ quarters… Perhaps I was wrong.”

Ayato began to turn, feeling somewhat satisfied with himself as you’d nearly passed the test. But then, as you blurted out a startled, “Wait—!” his heart sank a bit, already accepting the fact that you weren’t the kind of girl he’d thought— hoped— you were.

“Yes…?” he hesitantly encouraged.

“I— Uh, well— It’s just…” You were shifting on your feet and fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves now, never able to hold still when you were nervous. Even in a moment of oncoming disappointment, Ayato couldn’t help but find that trait endearing in you. But then you cleared your throat, tried to steady your quivering voice, and suggested, “Perhaps you should keep it in a safe place until someone comes forward. I can ask the other maids if any of them have lost anything recently. I won’t say what, just in case, but if that ring truly does belong to one of us, they’ll have an exact description of it.”

You looked at Ayato differently now, with more urgency, as if returning this unknown person’s lost item was suddenly the most important task you could undertake.

“I mean, whoever it belongs to, surely they must be worried about it. I mean, it does look very expensive, so they’re probably in a panic over losing something so valuable.” You were rambling now, yet another sign of your building anxiety. “Perhaps we should gather all the housestaff right now just to make sure—”

Ayato slowly reached for your hand and you let him take it, though couldn’t contain the little gasp that escaped you upon the surprise contact. Once again you were reminded of how gentle he was, how softly his gloved hand cradled yours, turning your palm upward and placing his closed first in the center, allowing the ring to land in your possession.

“I trust you will return this to the rightful owner then?” he grinned, a faint tint of mischief twinkling in his eye.

He hadn’t originally intended to let you keep it— He’d planned on gifting it to his sister once he’d used it to test you, actually— but in that moment, the eldest Kamisato had experienced a change of heart.

You looked at the ring that sat in your palm, so much prettier than the plain wooden one wrapped around your finger, so much more expensive, and for a moment you wished that it did belong to you. But as you closed your fist around it, dropping it into your apron’s pocket for safekeeping, you simply gave Ayato a firm nod and replied, “I’ll do my best.”

You’d hurried to depart from his chambers then, nearly forgetting to bow and address him formally on your way out, and it was then Ayato’s turn to be stunned.

He thought that you couldn’t do anything to surprise him further.

But he was proven wrong when you returned to him two days later, informing him that you’d inquired with everyone who worked both at the estate and Komore Teahouse and no one had been able to claim it, and placed the ring back into his palm, apologizing that you hadn’t been able to help after all.

***

Several more weeks had passed and you had yet to run into Ayato again. But that was fine with you. After you’d felt like you’d failed him, you were a little embarrassed to meet face to face any time soon. Other than that, however, your spirits had considerably lifted over the last few days.

For the most part, you and Thoma were back to your old selves, the halls filled with your playful banter and harmless teasing. He’d walk you home at the end of the day, sometimes lingering by your front door as if trying to buy himself a little more time with you. Sometimes you’d linger too. And during those small, intimate windows of quiet and staring, he’d look at you the way he had when he’d found you crying in that tiny, cramped little bathroom in the servants’ quarters and, more often than not, you found yourself wishing he’d finish what he’d started. But, night after night, Thoma would bid you farewell and leave you be, waiting until you were safe and sound inside of your little home before venturing back to his own lodgings.

“What…?” you’d finally gained enough courage to ask through a mutter one night when he was gazing at you in that way again.

“Nothing…” Thoma lied, the word barely a breath as the breeze came to whisk it away. “It’s just…”

“Just…?” You repeated, a hopeful lilt of encouragement in your tone.

Thoma couldn’t decide which was harder— to meet your eyes or retreat. On one hand, your stare was a familiar one. One he wished was reserved only for him, similar to the way he saved certain looks only for you. But, adversely, it was because of that familiarity that he found himself so hesitant to move forward.

Because if he misread things, if he messed them up, he’d risk ruining everything with you.

And that was something he wouldn’t be able to bear.

“Thoma…” You called him back to reality, caused him to meet your eyes again, almost with a look of premeditated guilt. “You can tell me…” You spoke quietly. Soothingly. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You thought you saw vulnerability welling behind all that emerald green, but lost a little confidence when something sad and almost regretful rippled within it.

“Thoma…” you began again. “I—”

But before you could speak another word, his hand was cupping your cheek, fingers gently combing themselves into your hair, and his mouth was on yours, his lips sweet with strawberry mochi.

You melted into the gesture, feeling your worries dissolve like sugar cubes dropped into afternoon tea as you parted your lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You felt yourself heating from the inside out as his tongue mingled with yours, taking his time to learn you in this way, a lazy, honey-drip of arousal slowly working its way through your blood, settling warm and heavy in the pit of your stomach.

And how long had Thoma waited for this? Waited to feel like you were his, as if you hadn’t been from the start? How long had you wanted to be his, even when you’d tried to convince yourself you were nothing special? How could either of you have forgotten that he was the sun and you were his sunflower, opening your vibrant, golden petals for him and only him?

Perhaps because there were storm clouds rolling in to stand between you two.

Though, how could the warmth of the sun be appreciated without the reminder of the rain?

How else would the flowers grow?

***

You hadn’t expected things at work after the night Thoma had kissed you to feel so… awkward.

You’d thought things would be the same as always, only now, you couldn’t shake the inkling of dread that crept over your back like a looming shadow that everyone knew. You hadn’t told anyone, and you assumed Thoma probably hadn’t either, but every time a new set of eyes landed on you, whether in the halls of the Kamisato estate or on the Inazuman streets, you wished you could just disappear for a while, like how a turtle tucks itself back into the safety of its shell at the first signs of danger.

You focused on keeping your head down, trying to work so hard you went home so exhausted at the end of the day you fell right to sleep before your mind was forced to endure the torture of dwelling on all this new anxiety that had stirred up within you. A few times, when Thoma passed by when you were in the middle of mopping or sweeping or dusting, he’d divert his prior path and migrate towards you, seeing the look of growing weariness etched into each feature and line of your face and ask a quiet and concerned, “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine…” you’d lie with a forced half smile, unable to meet his gaze as you said, “Just tired, is all,” before making up some excuse about how you were needed in another wing of the house and were running late. As you hurried off, not looking back before rounding the corner like Thoma was so used to, he’d find himself standing in place, staring down the vacant hall while the ghost of your image growing smaller in his vision haunted his mind.

Eventually snapping out of it, he, too, returned to work. Though, similar to you, Thoma couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different. Something was wrong. And no matter how long he dwelled on it, the fault came up as his every time.

Because maybe you’d changed your mind after the night you two had first kissed.

Maybe he’d overstepped.

Maybe you’d decided you didn’t want him anymore.

Though, as far as you were concerned, the issue didn’t lie with Thoma, himself.

The issue was how much you couldn’t stop thinking about him, how you kept replaying that moment over and over in your mind, trying to recapture the feeling it had given you, how safe you’d felt, how relieved.

Now, unfortunately, all you could feel was anxious.

Because what if Thoma changed his mind about you?

What if he’d been let down?

What if he didn’t want you anymore?

If only you could gather up enough courage to talk to him about it, see where he was at. Then maybe both your minds could be put at ease.

But there was something else that was bothering you too. Something swimming just below the surface that you could just barely make out the shape of yet were still unsure of just what kind of creature the swirling silhouette belonged to…

Though, from time to time, flashes of a certain Kamisato would race through your brain— the way his touch had cradled your chin, how your little hand had been swallowed up in his gentle grasp, the way he’d gazed at you so tenderly that, for a second, you’d been able to convince yourself he actually cared for you.

It was all too confusing to sort through at the moment, but it seemed the more distance you tried to put between yourself and your troubles, the further they dug their claws in, latching onto every emotion and thought you felt or had and flooding them with images of crimson and gold, periwinkle and ivory, until all the colors mixed into an indistinguishable grey.

When you ran into Thoma again at the end of the day, you were turning down his offer to walk home together before he could even get the question out. And the way his voice— always so gentle and bright, shining even through the cracks in his disappointment— trembled a little with a nervous laugh at the end when he assured you it was ok, wishing you a good night before parting ways…

That was what finally sent you over the edge.

That was what broke the dam that had kept everything at bay inside of you.

Because here you were, sabotaging yourself just as you’d feared.

Feeling the rushing waters welling behind your eyes, you forewent your usual path towards home and instead found your feet carrying you closer to the gardens of the estate.

At least there, you thought, you’d be able to let your heart break in private.

***

You’d barely made it to the secluded little nook in the gardens before breaking down, tears sparkling in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks in shimmering pairs as you cupped your hand over your mouth, hoping to muffle as much of the hiccuping sobs that were slipping through your fingers as you could.

If someone found you here like this it wouldn’t be the end of the world— you were at least allowed in the gardens, after all— but you knew how fast word spread between the maids and the last thing you needed right now was more gossip and another target on your back.

So, crouched and curled in on yourself, you wept as silently as you could, your heart feeling like it was being torn in two all while your worries continued piling higher and higher by the moment that you knew all it would take to send them all toppling down would be only the slightest nudge.

That nudge, as it turned out, came to you in the form of ivory and periwinkle, the low, soothing tone of Ayato’s voice asking from right above you, “What ever seems to be the matter?” in a way that sounded both startled and genuinely concerned.

His sudden appearance made you jolt, rocking back off your heels and hitting the ground with a graceless thud before scrambling up to your feet and frantically wiping your reddened, glassy eyes with the edge of your sleeves, sputtering out a string of frazzled nonsense that was meant to be an apology.

But Ayato stopped you before you made an even bigger fool of yourself, one hand slightly raised as if hesitantly reaching out to an injured animal, unsure whether it would accept the aid or bare its teeth in a defensive snarl. “Please, don’t be upset,” he attempted to comfort you, shuffling half a step closer. “Whatever’s happened, I’m sure it can be resolved…” You finally gained enough courage to look up at him, seeing how he stood only a few feet away, arms open as if beckoning you to him now.

When your stares met, Ayato gave a soft smile and said, “It’s alright… Now, won’t you tell me what’s gotten you so upset?”

Much to Ayato’s dismay, this kindness only caused you to cry harder, a new round of tears bursting forth as you nearly fell to your knees, body shivering with your sorrows as all the emotions flooding you froze over into a bitter ice, trapping you beneath the surface and drowning you from the inside out.

You weren’t sure how long Ayato had his hands on your shoulders, bent slightly as if to better see eye to eye with you, and was cooing out words of comfort before it registered to you that he was really there, was actually touching you, brushing stray strands of disheveled hair from your face and using his thumb, now tugged free from its glove, to gently wipe away your tears.

How many others had felt the direct touch of his skin on theirs, you then wondered, staring up at him, reverent, entranced. How many people has he even dared to touch? For someone who seemed like a god among men in many strangers’ eyes, it was almost terrifying to be this close to him. To have him be this close to you.

As your head cleared a little, your bleary vision returning to you with the sharpness of Ayato’s regal colors, you thought you heard him saying in a quiet, serene whisper, “There, it’s alright… It’s all going to be alright… I’m here…” a few times over until he thought you’d calmed down.

And then there was a long moment where the two of you were just gazing into each other’s eyes, faces mere inches apart, that caring smile still spread across his lips while you gaped at him like someone who’d thought they’d just seen a spirit drift across their path, curious and petrified and a little bit in awe all at once.

He began to lightly cup your jaw in his grasp again, humming out a quiet, lovely little note when he thought perhaps he was getting through to you, but, without meaning to, you flinched away from him, nearly stumbling back among the pebbled walkway but catching yourself at the last second, and watched as his smile dropped to a regretful frown, his hand still reaching out to you as if begging you to stay, imploring you to return to him so he could give you the comfort you so desperately needed right now.

Your senses returned to you and you flushed with sharp, prickling shame. “I— I’m so sorry…” you sniffled, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat, tongue feeling heavy and lethargic in your mouth as thick saliva garbled your words. Clearing your throat and trying to adjust your rumpled uniform, you averted your eyes from him and began to speak more formally, saying, “I’m so sorry you caught me like this, Master Kamisato, I was just—”

“Please…” Ayato cut in, so much power contained in a single word, though the request was spoken softly. The gentleness of it forced your eyes to flick back to meet his, your next breath catching in your throat. Because he wasn’t just seeing you, wasn’t just catching a glimpse from the corner of his eye as you passed along in the halls of the manor, busy with work.

Ayato was really looking at you, as if trying to search the very depths of your soul. Like he was trying to figure out every little detail that had occurred in your life thus far that had turned you into the person who stood before him right at that very moment.

And you knew, in that moment, you weren’t just another maid to him, another girl in the same uniform who wasn’t meant to be seen or heard.

You were you.

Just you.

And Ayato looked like he liked you.

He looked like he liked you a lot.

“There’s no need for formalities…” he went on, cautiously closing the gap between you two and gauging your reaction on whether it was ok to proceed. When you didn’t move, didn’t make an attempt to get away or even avert your eyes that time, he allowed himself to come as close as he had before, close enough to reach out and touch you.

That time, it was your hand he reached for— the one that wore that precious Thunder Sakura ring— and he turned it over in his grasp so your palm was face up to him. You watched, body so still you would’ve believed even your heart had stopped beating, as Ayato traced the lines etched into your palm, his lilac eyes entranced by how small your hand was in his, how precious you were, how soft your skin was despite all the work you did all day long, lingering on a few callouses that came and went depending on if the manor had any big events to host in the near future or not.

“Master Kami—” you began, but stopped yourself, swallowing down the remainder of his title and trading it for the name he preferred from you right now, “Ayato…” His view snapped back to yours, pausing where the pad of his bare finger was tracing your love line. “If we’re going to do this, don’t you think it should be somewhere a little more…” You looked around you, the space wide open for any prying eyes to spy on you, only vaguely shrouded by the various flowers and trees and hedges that crept around the garden’s edges.

But then his smile returned, allowing you to take your hand back as he said, that hint of mischief prevalent in his hushed voice, “Of course. And I know the perfect place…” He began to slowly stroll away, as if expecting you to follow him. He glanced over his shoulder after a few smooth strides. “This time of day, we should have Komore Teahouse all to ourselves.”

***

Ayato had been right, the teahouse was completely empty, all save for Taroumaru, but it wasn’t like he was going to go around spreading rumors about who he saw walk in with whom. Besides, it wasn’t any random strangers you’d been afraid of encountering there while in the company of the Yashiro Commissioner.

It had been Thoma, obviously.

But, lucky for you, after everything that had just happened, you knew he’d headed straight home, no more chores or duties to attend to that day.

What would he think if he walked in and saw that you’d ditched him to spend time with his boss though?

You prayed he actually had gone home and didn’t make any last minute stops along the way just to ensure that all his work for the day really was complete…

“So…” Ayato prompted as he took a leisurely sip of his tea, the scents of honey and bergamot wafting pleasantly through the air on the tendrils of steam that curled from both your porcelain cups. “What’s been troubling you? I certainly hope the head housemaid wasn’t the cause of all those tears…” It seemed like perhaps he was joking, though he also knew just as well as you did that there was more truth to that suspicion than you wanted to admit.

Awkwardly sipping your tea, comforted by the warmth against your palms at the very least, you gave a crooked, nervous grin and shyly replied, “It’s… complicated.”

Ayato wore a more grave expression now, setting his cup down on its saucer with a quiet clink. “So she is bothering you?” he deduced, as if ready to get up and go fire her on the spot. “I shall have a word with her. There’s no reason for her to—”

“No, no, that’s not it…” you brushed off Ayato’s severity with a wave of your hand and an only slightly less crooked smile. “It’s just…” you sighed, defeated, hanging your head a little as the words you knew you were about to say weighed heavy in your brain. “It’s…” You felt your leg resisting the urge to restlessly bounce and fidget from where it was folded underneath you.

You had the words in the right order, but did you have enough courage to say them out loud?

Ayato leaned in a little closer, encouraging you to speak freely, already invested in whatever it was you were about to say.

But why should he be? He was your boss, and you two had barely spoken, barely even seen each other face to face much before now anyway. Would it be out of line to tell him what was really bothering you, even if he really wanted to know? Would it be a betrayal to Thoma, who was also Ayato’s friend?

So many questions began to trickle into your thoughts and soon you found yourself once again on the verge of tears, overwhelmed.

You hid your face in your hands, just feeling like an idiot now, so embarrassed you thought you might curl up and die from it, but then Ayato was scooching around to your side of the table, your name leaving his lips with distress as he placed an arm around your shoulders, helping pull you close to him as you instinctively leaned against his chest, shamelessly seeking out any comfort he’d give you now.

“It’s just all so messed up…” you sobbed, voice cracking with frustration and fear. “I’m so messed up. I just— I just don’t know what to do or how to feel or think anymore, I—”

As you cried into the expensive, silky fabrics of his custom-tailored clothes, face buried into his shoulder, Ayato kept rubbing a hand up and down your back, unsure of what to say anymore but still hoping his touch could bring you some relief.

It was how he used to comfort his sister when she was small, back during the times she remembered they didn’t have parents anymore and all she could do was cry. She was the only person Ayato had ever really had a chance to comfort, the only person who was allowed to show such open, vulnerable emotion in his presence. Ayato used to weep for his parents too, though, when it came to his own sadness, he’d chosen to bear that weight alone, only safe in the silence of the night, buried beneath the layers of his bed that often felt so big and lonely he could’ve drowned in it.

“I think I love him…” You finally were able to admit, tearing Ayato from his tapestry of childhood trauma. “I think I have for a while but I never thought he’d feel the same and I— He— I just don’t know what to do because what if I ruin everything? What if I already have? I don’t want to lose him but I don’t know how to be with him either and I’m just afraid that either way I’ll end up making the wrong choice and—”

You hadn’t said his name once, yet Ayato knew exactly who you were talking about. He knew that Thoma felt the same way you did in so many ways that perhaps if you two just were as honest with each other as you were being now with him all your troubles could be resolved.

Yet, all the while, as he comforted you through your crying and confessions, Ayato’s heart was breaking. Because he could tell just how much you cared for Thoma, same as he’d been able to learn just how much Thoma cherished you.

And how could Ayato— Kamisato or not— ever hope to compete when the two of you were already so symbiotic?

Maybe because, as much as the sunflower needed the sun to warm its golden petals, it also needed a little rain here and there so it could grow, thick stalk reaching closer towards the sky once the clouds receded.

Hope is a dangerous thing, Ayato heard a voice in the back of his head warn as he tended to the garden of your suffering, willing to stay beside you and keep you in his arms for as long as you needed even if this would be the one and only time he’d get to hold you like this. Act careless and you’ll find yourself caught out in a storm you can’t weather.

You both had sustained enough worries and woefulness for one day, so Ayato did one of the things he’d learned to do best. He put on a mask to hide his true emotions— this one crafted of comfort and kindness to shield his heartache— and gave you a light shake, pulling you back to your senses and causing you to meet his eyes again.

With a smile that was only a little bit sad, Ayato said, “You know, whenever I’m in need of a pick me up, I always find myself wandering back to my favorite bubble tea spot…” He studied your features, hoping his invitation to help cheer you up wouldn’t be denied. “It’ll be my treat, of course.”

And, thank the Archons, that actually got a smile on your face, even if it was just a small, slightly shy one.

“Well, alright…” you replied, some of the playfulness you usually reserved only for Thoma sneaking into your next words, “but only if you’re paying.”

It would only be after he walked you home and you found yourself alone again that you’d realize just how deep in trouble you really were.

***

Several more weeks had passed and you and Ayato had continued with your secret meetings. He’d bring bubble teas to Komore Teahouse after hours at the end of the week when you got out of work, and you’d make up some excuse to Thoma as to why you couldn’t walk home together that day.

And you felt bad about it every time you did it, but you also felt like things between you and him had smoothed over in the days following your breakdown, so you didn’t want to risk sabotaging it now.

Though, that still didn’t change the fact that you were lying, and to someone who you most certainly did love, at that.

But it’s not like things between you and Ayato had gone beyond two friends getting to know each other better over boba, right? Even if your heart did flutter a little whenever you saw him and whenever your hands accidentally brushed you felt your stomach do a tiny somersault…

“We should really invite Thoma sometime,” you eventually proposed, when things between you and Ayato seemed right on the verge of crossing over into something a little more than just friends. “I know he likes bubble tea too, what with his sweet tooth and all.” You’d giggled out a melody of lilting, joyfully innocent notes, and Ayato felt his heart leap into his throat, though not for a good reason.

“Yes, perhaps we should…” he responded, careful to upkeep the light tone you two had grown accustomed to using around one another, though his voice still came out a little strained.

Because Ayato didn’t want to share you. Despite the fact that he already was— that you’d been Thoma’s first, after all— the selfishness of someone who was used to always getting what they wanted filled Ayato to the brim, a single, venomous drop of ink turning the crystal clear waters of his heart a deep, dark obsidian.

But maybe his entire problem could be solved if only he could learn to share. It wouldn’t be easy, that was for sure, and the entire prospect could go up in flames the moment he so much as hinted as much to Thoma, but he had to try.

Because if he didn’t, then he might lose you altogether and regret it for the rest of his life.

***

In all the time Ayato had known Thoma, he’d never seen his friend wear such an expression as he did now. He’d gone through a complex range of emotions in just a few seconds, first shock, then anger, then betrayal, then sadness as he’d listened to Ayato confess how he felt about you.

The two had been talking casually, as they normally did, when something had brought up your name and then, before Ayato could stop himself or let his better judgment kick in, he was telling Thoma everything. Even he couldn’t believe he was doing it, each word that left his mouth seeming to bury him deeper, digging out a well to drown his trusted relationship with Thoma in until it was dead in the water.

But then, as Ayato turned more apologetic, admitting that he was only telling Thoma this because of how much he cared for him, how he felt like keeping the secret in the first place was a betrayal in and of itself, the housekeeper seemed to soften a little, become more sympathetic to Ayato’s plight once he remembered that he’d been in the same exact spot as him once before.

“She was yours first…” Ayato acknowledged with a despondent sigh, the sun sinking behind the two of them as they sat on a ledge, half finished boba staining the stones with a dark ring of condensation. “So I don’t intend to get in the way of that. And if you wish for me never to see or speak to her again as I’ve been doing, just say the word and it will be so.”

The way Ayato looked at Thoma then was so pained that it nearly made Thoma flinch. Ayato’s lilac eyes were begging Thoma not to make it so, yet Thoma knew at the same time that the head of the Kamisato clan would honor his promise either way.

“But, Thoma, please…” Ayato continued, his voice now devoid of all its usual regality, more low and trembling than Thoma had ever heard it, had ever thought possible for someone of Ayato’s confidence. “If I can no longer see her, then I need you to promise— to swear that you’ll always be there for her no matter what.”

And then, just as quickly as it had disappeared, the eldest Kamisato’s poise and prestige was back, his posture straightening and his features setting into something more stoic, though it was all just a way for Ayato to cover up how terrified he truly was and regain some semblance of control.

For a while, Thoma didn’t speak. He just sat there, searching Ayato’s expression with those honest emeralds until he’d seemed to have found what he was looking for.

“Ayato…” Thoma began, a hard expression still present on his face. But as he reached over to place a hand comfortingly on his friend’s shoulder, Ayato found he truly had no idea what to expect next. “Listen to me. You and I are going to have a talk, and once that talk is over, if we’re both on the same page, we’ll go and have the same talk with her…”

The more Thoma explained his proposal, the more Ayato felt the aching tightness of anticipated loss in his chest loosen. The idea was certainly unconventional, especially for someone of Ayato’s standing, but, if you were on board, it might be the only way all three of you could end up happy in the end.

So, the two of them made their pact, preparing to approach you together and see if perhaps you’d grant them both the privilege of sharing you, willing to give their precious little sunflower all the warmth and rain she needed to thrive.

***

The proposition of the conversation initially came to you as a shock. The mere idea that both Thoma and Ayato needed to have a serious discussion with you equating to only one thing in your mind— that, despite how much they’d tried to assure you that worse wouldn’t come to worst, you were about to lose your job.

But when that hadn’t turned out to be the case, your dread was quickly drowned out by confusion. Because, if you weren’t in some kind of trouble, then what could possibly be so pressing? Surely not a promotion, you knew you hadn’t done anything significant enough to deserve that. Though, the more you thought about it, the fact that you’d grown so close to your boss recently might say otherwise.

Once they’d said their piece, both of them were patient with you while you sat before them, stunned and, quite frankly, a little embarrassed. You’d never given such a scenario a thought, let alone between your best friend and your boss, but here you were, the two of them staring at you with equal amounts of apology and longing and hope that it all felt like some kind of surreal dream.

You couldn’t help but raise concerns about what your fellow co-workers would think, not to mention with someone of Ayato’s pedigree engaging in such unconventional relations, but they both assured you that the secret would remain safe between the three of you until you worked out a way to make things more public, however long that took.

For you and Thoma, it would be a lot easier, so long as your mutual behavior at work didn’t change too drastically. For Ayato, however, he’d be lying if he said the fact he wouldn’t be able to spend as much time around you out in the open didn’t bother him a bit.

Because Ayato’s heart was like an ice cube not quite frozen, just the tiniest crack causing all of the water within to spill out, hence why he tried so hard to keep it away from the open flame you and Thoma had seemed to carry between your own ribs for so long.

He wouldn’t exactly call it jealousy, per se, but more so on the spectrum of grief, feeling like there would always be a constant reminder of the divide between your two worlds, that you and Thoma were the original matching set and he was just a spare.

And there was something about hearing those words come from Ayato’s own mouth that had broken something inside of you, awoke something inside of you too, and before Ayato had time to process or realize what he’d even just admitted, both you and Thoma were wrapping your arms around him, the three of you holding each other close and fitting together like missing puzzle pieces that had just been reunited.

And you were happy. You were so, so happy. Because, for once, you truly believed everything would work out the way it was meant to be. And soon, you’d be opening your vibrant, golden petals towards the prismic arc of a rainbow.

***

You’d gotten the day off from work. It was a rare occurrence, but one you appreciated all the more for it. Thoma had also been granted a much needed break. He showed up outside your quaint little home at sunset, the two of you walking hand in hand, fingers interlocked and arms lightly swinging between you, as he led you through Inazuma’s lantern lit evening streets and all the way to Ayato’s master bedroom at the Kamisato estate.

It seemed all of the Kamisato Clan’s help had been given a vacation, as neither you nor Thoma saw, heard, or even sensed another living soul within the mansion for possibly the first and only time you could remember. Day or night, the place was usually full of housestaff, always finding more work to be done. But now the house was dark. Quiet. But not eerie. You knew this place well, after all. You had nothing to fear.

“This way we won’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us,” Ayato had explained after letting you and Thoma into his private chambers, still keeping his voice low out of habit for there usually being curious ears eager to listen in. “Plus, by giving everyone the day off, it won’t put any suspicions on either of you if someone noticed you weren’t around.” Ayato gave you a small smile and a reassuring nod as he said this, also adding on that even his sister was away tonight, apparently addressing some business on her brother’s behalf.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Ayato cooed, tenderly cupping your face in his palm and smoothing his thumb along your cheek as he did so, his eyes sparkling with adoration instead of mischief for once. “I’ve taken care of everything.”

But for all the reassurance the eldest Kamisato was trying to give you, you still couldn’t help but feel nervous. You’d never done this with two instead of one, and even then, it had been a while since you’d done this at all.

Thoma hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time, tying himself to you, keeping you tethered to his warmth, and as Ayato took your other hand and the two of them led you towards the plush, king-sized bed, you felt your heart unfurling its wings and fluttering up into your throat.

“Thoma…” Ayato muttered to the blonde beside him, placing an ungloved hand upon his shoulder. “Why don’t you help her feel a little more comfortable while I work on undressing us?”

“Us?” Thoma couldn’t hide his sheer surprise, blushing beet red at the implication. Because, for as much as they’d discussed this new dynamic in relativity to you, one thing Thoma apparently hadn’t taken into account was the part he’d play in this triangle when it came to him and Ayato.

Us…

The more he let that idea sink in, the quicker he was to remember that that’s what the three of you were now. A collective us. And if Thoma and Ayato were to share you, to take care of and satisfy you, then there was absolutely no reason why they couldn’t do that for each other as well.

Thoma gulped down his trepidation, swept his gaze back towards you, and, as Ayato began to shed his own pristine clothing not too far behind him, Thoma knelt before you, taking your hands in his, and offered to answer any questions you might have, any concerns. He was pretty new at this too, but he could try, at least. So long as you felt comfortable and safe, that’s all that really mattered to him.

You and Thoma talked quietly, Ayato’s body half bare as he began his work on freeing Thoma of his clothes. It was strange to see the master of the house attending to someone of his staff in such a way, but nice nonetheless. It proved that here, behind the closed doors of this bedroom at the very least, the three of you were equals, no titles or bloodlines to separate you.

“Just know that we’re gonna take good care of you, ok?” Thoma promised, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead after shrugging free from the undermost layer of his shirt, Ayato tossing the thin black fabric over the back of a chair where his own clothes were draped. “You’re in good hands.”

Your eyes fell upon the two of them, feeling yourself blush at the sight of their bare chests, the way they were both toned with muscle, just in different ways. The two of them truly were like night and day, but, lucky for you, you didn’t have to choose between sun and moon in the instance of an eclipse.

Ayato had the build of someone who trained and sparred regularly. He was slightly taller than Thoma, his shoulders a little broader and speckled with a sparse constellation of beauty marks and moles. Your line of sight traveled further down his torso, tracing the chiseled definition of his abs with your eyes, swallowing hard when your view reached the waistband of his trousers, the way his pale skin stretched thin and taut over sharp hip bones. Ayato looked like he could’ve been carved from marble, the sculptor’s greatest creation, but this didn’t make the man beside him any less alluring to you.

Thoma was more lithe and lean, his skin a little tanner from too many afternoons spent out tending to the gardens in the hot summer sun. His arms were covered with a fine dusting of fair, blonde hairs, a chaotic speckling of light freckles beneath. The same wisps of spun gold snuck out from his waistband and up towards his navel in the thin line of a happy trail. Thoma’s posture was, surprisingly, slightly more relaxed than Ayato’s. He merely appeared as if he were patiently waiting, one of his thick-fingered, calloused hands absentmindedly fidgeting with a loose thread fraying off the article of clothing he was left wearing. He gave you a reassuring smile, his entire body seeming to sigh with adoration as his stance became even more relaxed.

Ayato’s gaze shifted back and forth between you and Thoma, as if trying to gauge whether he should take the lead or not. In hindsight, you’d been a little surprised that he hadn’t taken initiative right from the start. But perhaps that was just another unseen side to him you’d get the chance to explore more in the future.

Even Ayato was learning that those who appeared the most charming and confident could find themselves uncertain sometimes.

Ayato then came to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, resting one of his big, gentle hands on your lower back, gazing into your eyes like he was entranced, only removing his stare long enough to flick his eyes towards Thoma again, silently motioning for him to join you both on the bed.

That’s when one hand became two, two hands becoming three as Thoma began to help you out of your own clothes. Three becoming four as Ayato massaged the knots of tension from your shoulders and neck, taking special care of your wrists and hands as he knew how much they craved some care.

It was a reminder for him to not work you so hard— not that your position in the hierarchy of housemaids had been up to him, that assignment had been up to the head housemaid— and to make sure you were given the rest and relaxation you so well deserved when things started to get too busy or stressful. At least Ayato knew Thoma would always be there to support you during the hours he could not, but with that in mind, he was starting to realize perhaps he shouldn’t work Thoma so hard either.

“Go on, Thoma…” Ayato encouraged, applying light pressure to Thoma’s back, urging him closer to you. “It’s only fair…” He leaned in closer to Thoma’s ear, brushing the shell of it with his lips teasingly as he whispered, “She was yours first.”

Again, the heat rose in Thoma’s cheeks like a fire burning to life in its hearth, hoping to still his shaking hands before they found you, reminding himself how long he’d dreamt of this, how long he’d wished for it and willed it into existence. And then he was kissing you, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips until they parted for him, warm and wanting.

Ayato pulled you back into his lap in the few moments it took for you and Thoma to catch a breath, helping you settle your back against his chest, skin to skin, and letting you lean on him as Thoma moved closer, until his and Ayato’s legs were practically intertwined, and kissed you again, deeper that time, longer, slower, taking his time to explore every inch of your sweet mouth. When he’d discovered all he could there, drinking in every little whine or moan you made, he moved onto your neck, your head resting in the crook of Ayato’s shoulder as Thoma sucked dark bruises into the sensitive flesh of your throat.

Ayato could feel you trembling, already sensing the electric buzz of overstimulation humming through every nerve and vein inside of you as two sets of hands— one calloused and slightly smaller than the other, the second large and slender, soft and deft— began to knead at different parts of your body, never seeming able to hold enough in just their palms.

Ayato massaged gentle circles onto your hips and thighs while Thoma cupped your breasts, lightly pinching one nipple until it elicited a reaction from you, causing you to arch your back a little more and a soft, broken mewl of a cry to escape from your lips, chasing after his touch as your breathing picked up speed, chest rising and falling a little more rapidly than before.

His kisses then ventured lower until his mouth latched onto one of your sensitive, perked little buds, a moan of his own eliciting from the back of his throat as he felt his own arousal swell and his eyes fluttered closed. Your stomach was beginning to flinch, steadily growing painful as it writhed in its desire, but Thoma didn’t stop until he’d given both sides the same thorough treatment. At one point, Ayato had a hand resting on the back of the blonde’s neck, urging him to keep going with you, even if it was with a slight selfish want to watch the two of you like this a little longer, so vulnerable and pleasured.

“Are you ok like this?” Thoma eventually asked before continuing, patient with you as you took a moment to catch your breath and answer. You gave a weak nod, reaching out for him, cradling his cheek in your palm, watching as his emerald eyes— completely enamored— gazed upon you like you were a diamond among stones, so bright and dazzling it could be blinding at times. 

Perhaps he also knew what it was like to be a flower some days, soaking up any light and warmth you’d been willing to give him.

But that’s when the clouds rolled in, a drizzle of rain misting the gardens as Ayato locked eyes with Thoma and gave a gentle, encouraging nod. “It’s ok,” you heard Thoma mutter, shifting his position to lower himself between your legs, which Ayato had hooked over his own, beginning to bear you to Thoma. His touch was tender as it glided across the soft skin of your thighs, gently coaxing them further apart until you were on full display for him, beautiful and glistening. Ayato helped, of course, spreading you further apart when you shyly tried to close your legs again, you turning your head to the side and trying to bury your face in Ayato’s shoulder as a new wave of embarrassment and vulnerability flooded you, one of your hands keeping firmly intertwined in the long strands of sky that cascaded down his neck as if that could anchor you to him.

“I’ve got you…” Thoma said, flicking his gaze back to Ayato for just a moment before locking in on you. “We’ve both got you.”

The first kiss to your fluttering pussy sent a shockwave of chills racing up your spine, blood turning hot and electric as little sparks of pleasure ignited through the very marrow of your bones. You couldn’t help but emit another one of those delicate little whines, the sound of it causing both Ayato and Thoma to grow harder, the press of your back against Ayato’s chest causing your skin’s temperature to increase a few degrees with both of your combined body heat. 

When Thoma started teasing you with his tongue, you almost thought it would be too much, that surely there was no way you’d last long enough to take them both, that you’d go blind with the euphoria. He started out slow, savoring the taste of you, experimenting with different pressures and patterns to find what made you pulse and quiver most, dipping his slick muscle into your fluttering little hole a few times for good measure, his moans vibrating against your cunt whenever he felt your body try and suck him in deeper, your silky walls desperate to be filled with something more.

“Thoma—” you gasped, his name choked out by a broken whisper at the end, both your hands reaching back to grip Ayato’s biceps now, little nails biting shallow crescents into his skin and clinging onto him like he was the only thing currently tethering you to earth. “It’s—” But as he placed a languid, open mouthed kiss to your sensitive clit, another broken cry killed what had remained of your sentence.

“I’ve got you,” you kept hearing Ayato coo, though it sounded distant, muffled and far off and nothing like he was sitting just behind you. “That’s it… I’ve got you… Such a good girl…”

Unrelenting, Thoma continued his assault on your pussy, his face painted in your glistening arousal, the obscenely wet sounds of his mouth and tongue working you up to your first orgasm of the night filling the room and making you dizzy with both lust and embarrassment. But right before you could become too self conscious, he’d send another wave of mind numbing warmth rolling through your core, traveling through your body all the way up to pump more pleasure into your hazy brain.

You swore you couldn’t take much more, at one point were practically begging— though for it to stop or keep going, you didn’t know— but what finally nudged you over that sharp, steep edge was when Ayato reached around with one hand and took one of your nipples between his deft fingers and gave a gentle, teasing squeeze, as if just out of curiosity to discover what they’d feel like, how soft they would be.

The head of the Kamisato clan let out a pleased hum when your back arched against him and you let out another one of those adorable little cries, carefully twisting the sensitive bud of your breast in a way that was now entirely intentional. Pressing his lips right against your ear he whispered, low and sultry, “Oh? Our pretty girl likes that, doesn’t she?” One more ministration and you were coming undone, losing all control of your body, legs spasming and spine arching with a jolt as your mouth hung open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as the feeling coursed through you like a thick, heady drug.

Thoma came away from you with his mouth and chin shining in the dim light, watching your expression melt from tense to tranquil over the passing seconds, captivated, still partially unable to believe this was actually happening and not some kind of extremely vivid and bewitching dream. For a moment, he almost forgot how painfully hard he’d become, a reminding pulse of his own desire making him wince, pulling him back to the matter at hand.

Ayato cast him a half-lidded glance, periwinkle gaze shimmering with mirth and mischief as he continued to gently brush the pads of his fingers against your peaked nipples, keeping you on the cusp of the high while you slowly came down.

It was almost like Thoma was asking for permission from Ayato, as if they hadn’t agreed on all of this beforehand already.

“Go on…” Ayato granted, voice quiet and careful, as if speaking in the same room as someone who’d just drifted off to sleep. “It’s ok, Thoma. She’s ok…”

You were more than ok. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so good, so light, as if you could float outside of your own body and end up on an entirely different plane altogether. When was the last time you’d felt this relaxed? Had you ever? But still you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. You could barely even move. All you seemed to be able to do was listen to the rhythm of your own breathing, the steady rise and fall of your chest lulling you until you sensed the shadows behind your closed eyelids shifting, Thoma slowly climbing atop you.

Ayato helped shift you, carefully lowering you further back until you were laying flat on your back. You looked from Thoma to Ayato, seeking the answer to a question you didn’t even know to ask, but they seemed to read your facial expression then, quick to rush in and give reassurances.

“It’s alright…” Ayato sighed, taking your hands in his and pressing them lightly into the mattress on either side of your head, just holding them, gently stroking his thumb across the thin, delicate skin of your wrists.

“I’ll go slow,” Thoma said, pulling your attention back to him, his slender silhouette engulfing you from above. “I promise…” He kissed the tip of your nose. Ayato felt you tense slightly as your grip around his hands flexed. Thoma pressed a kiss to your jaw, down your neck, your collar bone, shoulder, chest, retracing the path his lips had traveled previously as if he’d already memorized it. His voice was resolute, reverent, all the while laced through with that edge of care and concern as he said, “I’m gonna take really good care of you.”

You believed him even without him saying it. You’d never had a reason to doubt that. Not with him. And even when a small pang of apprehensive fear flared inside you as he freed his aching cock and pressed it against your dripping cunt, you still trusted him. 

“You need to prep her, Thoma,” Ayato suddenly reminded him, watching the blonde with something hungry and almost vulture-like, patiently awaiting his turn as he held back his envy. Envy that Thoma would get to have you first, even though that was only fair. Ayato didn’t resent him for it, but still, he couldn’t help the small part of him that wished otherwise. “Here, let me…”

Thoma let out a choked whimper, so close to getting to feel you in full he almost couldn’t take it. And as tempted as he was to ignore Ayato’s request and give into his own selfishness, he obliged. When Ayato appeared before you next to Thoma, your hands had nothing left to grip but the sheets. Thoma was flustered and eager. Ayato appeared calm and serene as ever, though that mask would soon chip away.

You felt one long finger glide through the petals of your dewy folds before slowly sinking into your hole, then two, a sensation a little foreign but not entirely uncomfortable as Ayato began to pump them in and out, occasionally scissoring them inside of you only to feel you try and suck him in deeper, your eager cunt clutching his digits with a vengeance.

That was when Ayato’s careful mask of control cracked to reveal something more akin to unbridled desire beneath.

“That’s a good girl…” Ayato sighed as your body stirred back to life, lazily writhing atop the tousled sheets as you felt that familiar pressure begin to build again. “Now you’ll be ready to take Thoma so well…”

It wasn’t long before Thoma was leaning over you again, his and Ayato’s murmured exchange of words lost to you amidst the lustful haze. Though, you did hear him when he spoke directly to you, his voice breathy and sweet, “Gonna make you feel so good, baby… Promise…” right before you felt the blushing tip of him catch on your sensitive little hole.

You let out a hiss as the first inch nestled itself into your tight, wet warmth, the sting of the stretch not entirely unpleasant, but definitely enough to jolt some of your senses back to reality. You heard Thoma’s breath catch, a strained gasp stuck halfway up his throat as he slid in a little further, all the while Ayato stood behind him and pressed languid kisses to Thoma’s neck and shoulder, running his fingertips over the toned expanse of the blonde’s torso.

Once Thoma was all the way inside you, you wincing as he brushed against your cervix, you both took a moment to catch your breath. Then, Thoma began to move.

Every roll of his hips seemed to hit you just right, sparks of pleasure shooting up that taut string stretching up through your core and a delicate moan leaving your lips as he began to pick up speed. Thoma was biting his lip, trying to keep his gaze on you but having to squeeze his eyes shut sometimes when your cunt gripped his length like a vice. He couldn’t help but let out his own melodic moans, the sounds he made almost as beautiful as yours.

Ayato had taken to sitting back and watching you both, enjoying the music you made together, his cock already painfully hard as he began to palm himself, the silk pillows cradled around him shifting out of place as he threw his head back and tried to hold out.

You both looked so gorgeous on display like that. Vulnerable and euphoric. Raw.

Ayato couldn’t wait to see what view you’d provide when he was the one looking down on you.

You were gripping Thoma’s shoulders now, your moans growing louder and higher in pitch as he reached the peak of his pace, both of you singing in tandem with pleasure until your trembling legs seized, locking around his waist, and your back bowed off the bed, mouth hung open in another silent scream as you came undone for Thoma yet again.

It was hardly a moment later before Thoma was curling over you and finishing himself, trying to stay coherent so he could savor this sensation, this memory, as he filled you to the brim with his warm, sticky seed.

Both of you were breathing hard, panting out short, shallow little breaths into each other’s necks as you kept your bodies pressed close together, as if you could stay in that moment forever so long as you were still enough.

Ayato had to force himself to assert control over his own desires for just a little longer, removing his hand from himself and trying to focus back on you. But as you and Thoma’s chests returned to a slower, deeper rise and fall rhythm, Ayato pushed off from the bed.

He’d been plenty patient in waiting.

Now, it was his turn.

“How do you both feel?” Ayato asked as he came to sit on the edge of the bed closest to you. Thoma was still nestled deep inside you, his cock softening yet reluctant to leave the lovely warmth your body provided. But he knew his time was up. It wasn’t fair to keep you all for himself. That had been the deal. So, slowly, carefully, he pulled out of you, choking on a whine as some of his balmy whiteness leaked out of your pretty little hole, dripping down your ass and threatening to make a mess of the sheets.

Thoma went to swipe some of it away with his fingers but Ayato stopped him, gripping his wrist and giving him a playfully chiding look. “Don’t,” he stated, as if he’d read Thoma’s mind. “Let it stain.”

So used to taking his master’s orders, Thoma obeyed, stepping back and trading places with Ayato, who now assumed position over you.

“How’s our pretty girl doing, hm…?” Ayato cooed, so soft and safe that Thoma nearly didn’t recognize the voice as belonging to him. But what had actually caught him the most off guard was the word he’d used.

Our.

As in, belonging to both Ayato and Thoma.

The Kamisatos had never wanted for anything and had always had the power to take what they wished to claim for their own. Never had Thoma ever thought Ayato would be willing to share such a valuable rarity with the likes of his housekeeper. Not when there was only one. Not when it was you.

But he was.

And now it was Thoma’s turn to watch and trust that his friend would honor their deal when all was said and done. That Ayato would still be willing to share you even after he’d gotten a taste for himself.

You were just barely coming to when Ayato was staring down at you, haloed by the glowing moonlight, pale blue locks cascading over his broad, toned shoulders, skin glowing like a comet’s tail.

“Think you can go again, sweetheart?” Ayato asked, the question just above a whisper, as if murmuring a secret to you. And, for a moment, he feared he might not get to experience you at all. He feared you might’ve already had enough for one night and he’d be forced to finish himself off and wait until you were recovered to resume where things had left off. But all that fear disappeared once you gave a wobbly nod, reaching for him, wanting to pull him closer.

Ayato leaned down to meet you, his lips teasingly brushing against your own, letting you feel him smile against you, a mischievous little hum lilting in his throat. He pulled back a fraction, taking a devious satisfaction when you whined and tried to close the gap. He was going to have so much fun playing with you, learning how far to push you, how much you’d try and push back. But, for now, he gave you what you wanted.

When his mouth met yours, Ayato swore he could still taste Thoma on your tongue, something sugary sweet mingled in with your saliva that was unmistakably him.

Deepening the kiss, Ayato left you breathless, had you getting lost in the sensation. He could’ve kissed you for hours, kissed you until he forgot his own name.

But that would also have to wait for a later time, it seemed. Right now, there were more pressing matters at hand.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, gripping your hips to slide you further down the bed towards him. His strength was effortless, gracefully regal in its own right. He placed a big hand between your shoulder blades and slowly lifted you up a little, seeing the curiosity glittering in your gaze as you stared up at him, an unspoken question forming on your tongue.

“I think I want to try something a little different,” he told you, voice still soft and cautious. Then, with one of those subtle, charming smiles he asked, “Do you trust me?”

You nodded again, knowing that, whatever he had in mind, it would benefit you both.

Ayato shifted you so that you were straddling him, his hard cock poised and at the ready just inches below your sore little entrance, both of you sitting upright and facing each other. Your hands held his shoulders for purchase, able to feel all that lean muscle coiled beneath pale skin, while his hands made quick work of positioning you both for what came next.

With one, he guided his cock towards your hole, with the other, he kept a firm hold on one of your hips, helping you to sink down on his length, every velvety inch of him sliding deeper into your slick heat as you let out a few whimpers and your grip on his shoulders tightened.

Ayato felt different than Thoma, though no less pleasant. He filled you in a way that made you wince, stretching you just a little wider than Thoma had, but not quite sending those shooting jolts of pain to your core like when Thoma had brushed against your cervix. He was certainly close though, and once you got moving you’d be prepared for the pain.

He waited for you to catch your breath, let you slump against his chest as he stroked languid lines up and down your spine to try and help you relax, and once you’d seemed to adjust, he moved his hands to grip your both sides of your hips, beginning to help you bounce on his cock.

Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head before long, mouth agape with panting huffs and silent pleasure, Ayato’s strained moans punctuating the air. Thoma was once again entranced, watching the two of you with a dazed sort of reverence.

Thoma had been so gentle, so sweet and servicing, but Ayato held more of a dominance over you. Though, again, to choose one over the other wouldn’t have been easy for you. Good thing, you kept remembering, you got to have both.

“That’s it—” he told you, all prior control and elegance gone from his voice now, only left over with the raw vulnerability of pure animal desire. “That’s a good girl— Just like that— Fuck…”

Hearing the swear leave his lips had your legs trembling again, on the edge of being plunged beneath the surface of so much mind-numbing pleasure. Ayato was holding out, nearly getting lost in his own lust as the intoxicating clench of your cunt around his length made him see stars, but the moment you went tense with the height of your orgasm, silky walls squeezing around him the tightest they had yet, Ayato couldn’t wait anymore.

He lost any and all control he had left and filled you with his own sticky warmth, your quivering form slowly going slack against him, now entirely spent.

“Archons, baby…” Ayato sighed, holding you in his strong arms like you were the only thing in the entire world that mattered to him. The only thing he’d ever wanted. He briefly met eyes with Thoma who already looked halfway to getting hard again and beckoned him closer with a loose wave of his hand.

Thoma approached, already expecting orders, but instead what happened was Ayato gently wove his fingers through the short hair at Thoma’s neck and guided him closer until their foreheads were touching, resting against each other in a silent pact.

A promise.

After a while, Thoma starting to feel a little self conscious, he began to say, “I should go get something to clean us up with,” but Ayato stopped him before he could finish the suggestion with a shake of his head.

Carefully, he pulled out of you, both him and Thoma helping to lay you back on the bed and fluffing the pillows, adjusting them until you were most comfortable. You were so full from both Thoma and Ayato you swore you could feel it in your tummy, a whine escaping you as you felt their combined pleasure dribbling out of you, the cool night air hitting your soaked pussy and sending a shiver up your spine.

Thoma pulled one of the sheets over your form, and before long you were already dozing off. Once you were settled, Ayato finally said, a hint of mischief playing at the corners of his lips, “You stay here with her. I’ll take care of the cleaning up for once.”

Thoma went to interject and insist that he could do it— that he should do it— but Ayato wouldn’t hear of it. And so Thoma lay next to you in bed, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest and the flutter of your lashes while he waited for Ayato to return.

“Do you know how long I dreamt of this?” Thoma murmured, his voice barely detectable to you amidst the pleasure-fueled high of your slumbering daze. “Of you. Of us…” He sounded as if he were gliding through a dream, glazed over with pure adoration and only a little disbelief. Then, after the length of a few more of your slow, peaceful breaths, “I just could’ve never imagined it would feel so much better than anything I ever could’ve thought up. The during…” He propped himself up on one elbow, gingerly pressed a tender kiss to your sweet little forehead. “And the after…”

Ayato returned with a basin of warm water and a bundle of silky cloth. He handed one to Thoma and they both got to the careful and meticulous work of cleaning you up. You stirred upon their touch, both of them murmuring lulling words to you as you blinked open bleary eyes. When they were done taking care of their most special girl, Ayato wrapped you in his finest, softest robe and Thoma tucked you into bed, making you a spot in the middle among all the silk sheets and satin pillows, looking like a princess amidst all the fabric finery.

Ayato went to clean Thoma next, unable to suppress a smile as he caught his housekeeper blushing brighter shades of red the further down his body his careful, tentative hands traveled. He thought about letting him off the hook, but it seemed his habit of teasing him couldn’t resist.

“Feeling shy now, are we? After everything we’ve done?”

An embarrassed squeak crawled up Thoma’s throat as he opened his mouth to speak. Then he stammered out an adorably defensive, “N-no, it’s just— I’ve never had someone— And you of all people— I—”

Ayato Kamisato silenced his nervousness with one of those deviously charming chuckles, a low hum of mirth trailing off the end. “You should get used to others taking care of you for once, Thoma,” he lightly chastised. “Besides, if we’re to keep doing this I can’t have you feeling ashamed. The two of us agreed to share her but…” Ayato stood from where he’d been kneeling, finishing with his work of the mess that had been glazed over Thoma’s skin. He straightened to his full height, considering his housekeeper with a look that was almost pleading. “Would it be so bad if we partook in each other from time to time as well?”

Thoma flushed beet red from his chest all the way to the tips of his ears, averting his eyes from the taller man and nervously worrying his lip between his teeth. Of course he wouldn’t mind that. Him and Ayato had been close enough even before tonight that the consideration wasn’t entirely implausible. But to say it out loud…

That was a different bridge to cross.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Ayato suggested, seeming not to mind that Thoma was hesitating. There would be plenty of later opportunities to revisit and develop their new relationship and all the different dynamics of it. For once, Ayato Kamisato was content with being patient. He then nodded towards you, both of their eyes falling on your form. Your eyes were still barely open, watching them as if they were familiar, benevolent ghosts that appeared before the foot of your bed every night. “Poor thing’s had quite the exhausting night. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

And with that, Thoma and Ayato climbed into bed to join you, both of them snuggling up to you at your request, reducing your trio of warm, sated bodies to a loose tangle of tired limbs and synchronized breathing.

As you fell asleep between them, you briefly reflected on your initial hesitation of being shared. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it, whether physically, emotionally, or both. But now, after placing your trust in their hands, after experiencing how gently they’d treated you, how attentive they’d been, well…

Now you couldn’t imagine things any other way.

***

(Hello and thank you so much for reading! I sincerely hope you enjoyed! <3

I actually started this fic over a year ago but kept putting off finishing it, so I’m glad to have it done and concluded in a way I’m pretty satisfied with. I’ve loved Thoma and Ayato ever since I first played Inazuma so I’m glad I’ve finally been able to write a fic featuring both of them.

Anyway, thank you so so much once again for reading. I hope you have a wonderful day and do something kind for yourself. See you next time! Byyyyeee~!)

[unclewaynemunson]

It was the thirteenth of September. Nancy was lying on her bed, with her head in Robin's lap and Robin's fingers softly combing through her hair, both of them holding a book in their hands. They had been spending a lot of time together like this lately, simply enjoying each other's company and perhaps headed towards something Robin didn't quite dare to name yet.

"Today is Barb's birthday."

The words came out of Nancy's mouth sudden and unexpected, cutting through what had been a comfortable silence like a knife.

Robin hesitated before reacting; something she wasn't exactly known for, usually, but she knew she should be careful with her words right now.

"You never told me about her," she decided to say.

"I suppose Steve told you all about what happened," Nancy answered.

It was true: over the months in which the two of them had gotten to know each other better, they had talked about pretty much everything - everything except this. Robin had often felt like it was something too delicate to ask about. She had seen the haunted look in Nancy's eyes sometimes, whenever she was staring at the pictures on her wall or into the Harringtons' backyard. But this was the first time Nancy ever alluded to Barb's existence.

"He did," Robin admitted. "Or, well, maybe not all of it, I don't know about that. He told me about the monster. The Demogorgon."

"What if I told you..." Nancy's voice was barely more than a whisper. "That that wasn't the only monster at Steve's house that night?"

"What?" Robin was pretty sure no other monsters had been involved when Steve told her about what happened on that fateful night in 1983.

Nancy went to sit up and turned her face away from Robin.

"Did you know that Barb didn't even want to go to Steve's in the first place?" she asked. Without waiting for a reply, she continued, "She wanted to drop me off and leave me there. She never even liked Steve and his friends. But I pushed her to come with me. She didn't wanna drink, she was uncomfortable all night, but I told her to be my guardian, to make sure that I wouldn't get drunk and do something stupid. And when she tried to do just that, I ditched her." She paused for a moment, but still didn't look at Robin. "She died mad at me, Robin. I told her to leave, when I should've looked out for her. And because of that, she died. I treated her terribly, that night. If I hadn't neglected her, she'd still be... I was the real monster."

Robin scooted closer towards her on the bed. She still couldn't see Nancy's face, but her shoulders were shaking, so she pulled Nancy into her arms and wrapped them tightly around her. Nancy responded to her touch by burying her face in the crook of Robin's neck.

"Have you ever talked about this?" Robin asked. "With Steve, Jonathan, your mom? Anyone?"

She felt how Nancy shook her head, still hidden away in her neckline. Almost unconsciously, she let one of her hands wander until her fingers were back where they had been before, tangled in Nancy's curls.

For almost three years, Nancy had been living her life feeling like a monster. She had let the guilt about what happened to her friend gnaw at her until it made a home for itself inside of her and became part of her. "I was the real monster." She had let grief and remorse fester while refusing to ever share that burden with anybody. She had never even allowed anyone to tell her another story than the one she told herself.

"You weren't a monster, Nance," Robin said softly. "It breaks my heart that you've been thinking that way about yourself. You were just being a stupid teenager. You were - you were curious about a boy, trying some new things, and your friend didn't like that. That's like, half of what friendships are about when you're a teenager, isn't it? Nothing about that makes you a monster. There's no way you could've foreseen the consequences. If things were normal, she would've forgiven you the next day and you would've told her all about your night with Steve; and maybe she would've made fun of you a little bit, but at the end of the day, you'd have each others' backs. She would never let you think about yourself the way you've been doing. You were never a monster, Nancy. You were just a girl. A girl who lost her best friend through no fault of her own."

Finally, Nancy lifted her head to look at Robin. The look in her eyes was strikingly intense.

"Thank you," she said. "I - I honestly never looked at it that way. I didn't even know how much I needed to hear that." She uttered a long, heavy sigh. "I don't think I'll ever be able to stop thinking about how lonely she must've felt when she died."

Robin squeezed her tighter in her arms. "How she died was only a few seconds of her life, though. There's so much more to remember her by than that. She was a person for sixteen years, before that happened. And she was your friend for most of that time. You wanna tell me about that?"

Nancy stayed silent for a long time. Just when Robin started worrying she had said the wrong thing, Nancy drew in a shuddering breath.

"She was my best friend," she said, with a crack in her voice. "We used to bike into the woods and collect acorns and chestnuts in the fall. We'd make our own gross tea from leaves in her garden and read books to each other in silly voices. She cut her hair short when she turned twelve; I had to come with her to the hairdresser and hold her hand. And she helped me find one of my baby tooth when it fell out in the playground and I lost it."

Nancy kept talking, just sharing whatever memories came to her mind, like snapshots of this short life they lived together. And Robin kept asking questions whenever she fell silent. She let her talk about Barb until long after the clock struck 12 and it wasn't Barb's birthday anymore. And every year after that, on the thirteenth of September, she would ask Nancy again to tell her about Barb. And Nancy never ran out of stories to tell her.

(Ronancetober day 2: monstruous)

[sitkowski]

elusive dream ( jolly karlsson x nick folio )

pairing: jolly karlsson x nick folio cw: none. this is purely self indulgent fluff. word count: 852 author's note: please take some soft riptide boys i wrote to make myself feel better. title comes from the rain city drive song, divider by @saradika-graphics ✨

⇉ masterpost || taglist signups || riptide verse masterpost || read on ao3

It’s been raining for hours, the kind of weather that leaves Nick wanting nothing more than to stay beneath the blankets all day. Barely lifting his head from his pillow, he picks up his phone off the nightstand. No notifications yet, but it’s still early morning hours and eventually, someone else will want his attention. He sets his phone to ‘do not disturb’ and puts it back down before rolling over and pressing his face between Jolly’s shoulder blades.

Jolly mutters something not in English, before shifting around a bit. “What time is it?”

“Time does not exist, there is no such thing as time,” Nick says as he wraps his arm around him and nuzzles closer. “Going back to sleep now.”

He starts to drift off again, and he feels the blankets shift higher as Jolly pulls them up around them more firmly. Jolly laces his fingers through Nick’s, and that’s the last thing that he remembers for a few hours. When he wakes up again, the other side of the bed is empty and cold. He’s not a fan. They did manage to sleep a few more hours at least, but Nick still feels tired. He steals one of Jolly’s hoodies and goes in search of his boyfriend.

Jolly’s in the living room, buried in a hoodie of his own watching what looks to be House Hunters reruns. Nick crawls onto the couch, snuggling up to him. “What’s going on in this one?”

“This guy can’t afford his family home on his own after the divorce. The realtor is also his ex-wife apparently.”

Nick nods and hums, and when Jolly shifts around so that he’s half laying on top of him, he feels content. He curls his fingers through his hair, over and over, enjoying this whole ‘doing nothing’ thing. They work their way through a couple episodes of the show, making fun of the people complaining about aspects of the houses they’re being shown. Eventually Nick’s stomach starts to growl and he realizes they’ve just been laying around almost the entire day and haven’t eaten.

“Are you trying to communicate to me that you’d like to be fed?” Jolly asks from where his head is laying on Nick’s stomach.

“We can just order out. I wanna continue to be useless as the g in lasagna.”

“You do know that without the g, the word wouldn’t sound the same, right?”

Nick makes a face at him he thinks he doesn’t see, but then Jolly looks up at him and he’s not quick enough to put on a sweet smile. Narrowing his eyes at him, Jolly sits up enough to get his hands between them and promptly digs his fingers into Nick’s sides. He yelps and tries to scramble away but there’s nowhere for him to go and he shrieks with laughter, unable to get ahold of Jolly’s wrists to stop him.

“No no no no! Uncle, what’s the Swedish word for uncle?”

Jolly only stops tickling him long enough to lean in to kiss him and Nick smiles against his mouth, wrapping his arms around him. He keeps kissing him until his stomach growls again and he pulls away, laughing as Jolly presses his face into his neck. “Takeout.”

“Or I can cook us something?”

“Oh, you’re trying to get me to marry you before we go back on tour.”

Jolly lifts his head, looking at him with wide eyes and Nick realizes what he said and how it sounded. He doesn’t have the words to say it right now that all Jolly would have to do was say yes, and he’d do it. Instead he cards his fingers back into his hair and pulls him closer for another softer kiss.

“For the record, when I ask you to marry me, you’re never going to see it coming.” he says against Nick’s mouth.

He pulls himself up off the sofa and heads towards the kitchen, leaving him there a little stunned. It takes him a minute to be able to get up and follow him. He’s not done with this conversation.

“You’ve been thinking about marriage?” he asks.

Jolly smiles a little, “Yeah, I mean. That’s the plan, right?”

“Yeah, yes. It is absolutely the plan. I have every intention in the world of marrying you, Jolly,” Nick can’t keep his own giddy smile from his face and he sees Jolly’s smile widen. “So, tell me more about this stealth proposal?”

He shakes his head at him, turning towards the refrigerator in search of ingredients for a meal. “Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” Nick wraps his arms around Jolly’s middle, “Come on, Joakim, tell me all these big ideas about how you plan to woo me into being your husband.”

At the word husband, Jolly turns around in Nick’s grasp, pushes him against the counter and kisses him. It draws a surprised noise from Nick’s mouth but he goes with it, grabbing into his shoulders and keeping him close. Jolly pulls back, pressing his forehead into his.

“The element of surprise, pretty. It’s all about the element of surprise.”

⇉ taglist

@deathblacksmoke @ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @malice-ov-mercy

@baddestomens @dominuslunae @sorrowsofsilence @rumoured-whispers

@cookiesupplier @collapsedglasshouses @thatchickwiththecamera @collidedwiththesavannah

@th4t-em0-k1d @blackveilomens @illmakeyousaywow @itsjustforce

@darksigns-exe

if you ’d like to be added to the taglist, you can find the form at the top of this fic! thanks for reading/reblogging 🩷

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Summary: A midnight picnic

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader

Warnings: smutty but no smut, reader is a tad bit horny and possessive idk how good this is please bear with me

Word Count: 744

When Santiago lifts the wine bottle to his mouth, wine dribbles down his chin and neck. 

Without thinking about it, you lean in and lick it away, the stubble littering his skin poking against your tongue. It’s a sweet white blend, something crappy you used to drink in college. 

Against him, it’s like drinking from the fountain of life. You can’t help yourself. With the taste of the wine in your mouth, you follow the sharp edge of his jaw with your tongue and bite down into the soft flesh of skin underneath his ear. 

Something ripe and possessive rises up inside you. You want to tear off a piece of his skin for yourself. 

“Christ,” he pushes you away. “What the hell’s come over you?” He rubs where you’d bitten, and you take the wine bottle from him, taking a sip yourself.

Inside you, something churns in arousal as you think about his mouth and how it was at the same place yours is just a few moments ago. 

Without the taste of his skin, you hate the taste. It reminds you of too many memories you would like to forget. Right then and there you decide that the only way to drink this wine is with Santiago mixed in. You want to drag him back inside from the fire escape and onto your bed, make love to him and bite him with the wine in your hand. 

Pour it down his chest and watch it dribble down to his soft tummy where you’ll lick it away before moving down and letting his hands hold your head for his pleasure. 

There was something about Santiago that hung around him like a cloud. Hazy and smoky, you'd call it mustard gas had it not been for how pretty it made him look. Like the gathered up petals of a rose. 

He looks even prettier in the gentle hand of the moonlight, the lights of the city only serving to highlight his best features. 

It's unfair.

Wearing a pair of tattered shorts that hit him on his upper thigh, a loose t-shirt that hangs off his shoulder and exposes his inner chest, he looks like something you only could have dreamed of before, something you didn’t know was allowed to exist. 

The thick wave of humidity that’s taken the city by the neck, that makes you feel sweaty and gross, makes Santiago's hair, the longest he's ever worn it since he left the army, loose and curled, like each one was painted on to his head with a careful hand. 

In moments like these you lose your words. They slip out of you, flowing past and away away. 

You pass the wine to him and instead take the box of chocolates in your hands. 

You’re not sure how Santiago came into your life. This fairy-like, god of a man that arouses in you a strange need to own. 

One day Santiago wasn’t there, and then the universe was there. The wood panels had been pulled away and you’d bounded onto the racetrack in galloping steps. 

He’s rubbing at the skin you’d latched on to like an animal, but still you’re not satisfied with the mark you tried to leave on him. It might be the heat that’s making you delirious, awakening in you wants and desires that had lain dormant for dozens of centuries now. 

“Sorry,” you murmur gently, though your tone gives it away that you want to do it again. 

He looks at you for a moment and then he shakes his head, laughing, “S’fine.” He reaches forward again and takes the wine, takes a long drink from it and makes you want to try it once more, to see if the taste would be any different from the last time, if the memories would change, turn pleasant and comfortable. 

“You wanna spend the night?” 

It’s a hot one, going to be even hotter when he joins you in bed as well, your double a bit of a tight fit for the size of him but at least your AC unit is half-working and his isn’t. 

“You don’t haveta get me drunk to get me to sleep with you, baby,” he grins and pulls you forward to kiss. 

His tongue rubs against yours and presses the taste of chocolate and wine into your soul. The humidity hangs heavy around you, a tight grip around your throat.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here. Summer Drabbles here.

[homerjacksons]

Fluffy February - @fluffyfebruary Day 15: Craft Word count: 1188 Fandom: Ripper Street Pairing: Homer Jackson/Edmund Reid AO3

This one's a direct sequel to yesterdays - enjoy!

--

Jackson took a long, deep drag from his cigarette, holding it for a moment before releasing it in a slow, steady stream, watching the way it curled and danced in the early morning light. He smiled to himself as Reid snuggled closer against his side, definitely awake now, though clinging to the vestiges of sleep as his arm snaked around Jackson’s middle.

“Sleep,” Reid murmured, voice only audible because there were no other sounds to compete with.

Jackson just ran his fingers through Reid’s hair in response, taking another drag from his cigarette. He was awake now, and no matter how cosy Reid was beside him, he knew he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep this morning. But saying so would only make Reid force himself awake too, and Jackson didn’t want that. He wanted Reid to take as much rest as he wanted ‘cause God knew he needed it.

These moments were becoming more and more frequent between them, moments of quiet affection, of comfort, of familiarity. It was love, unmistakable in its vibrancy, that he felt tugging and fluttering behind his ribs every time Reid softened, every time he was vulnerable with Jackson, every time he let his facade drop and just existed with him in the moment. He’d long been afraid of that feeling no matter how impossible it was to dampen–likely because it was impossible to dampen–but he’d grown used to it, now, grown used to allowing himself to feel it, to sit with it without trying to push it away. He imagined it was something akin to trust that allowed him to be so calm about something that once would have terrified him to the point of recklessness. It wasn’t a certainty that Reid would never hurt him, would never cast him aside or leave him alone in the world, would never damage the already broken pieces he had left. That could never be assured no matter who the other person was, and Reid was certainly more likely to hurt him than most, he was sure. He merely trusted that in this moment, for however long the moment lasted, Reid was what was right for him, was right for his heart, and he’d learned to let it be.

Reid’s fingertips began tracing lazy patterns across Jackson’s side, his stomach, his chest, and he couldn’t help the way his heart hammered against his ribs, the way his stomach fluttered at the gentle attention, wouldn’t try to stop it even if he could. It felt almost magical every single time Reid was soft, affectionate, unguarded, and Jackson relished in it.

As Reid stretched out beside him, head tilting up where it rested on Jackson’s chest, Jackson looked down at him, meeting his sleep-hazed, lazy smile with one of his own.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he said softly, stubbing his cigarette out on the windowsill behind the bed.

“Barely,” Reid muttered back, but there was no bite to his tone, his eyes still heavy-lidded, his soft smile still lazy and free.

Jackson laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Reid’s head. “Sun’s been up for hours.”

Reid snorted before pressing a half kiss to Jackson’s chest, letting his eyes fall closed again, and they lay like that a while longer, fingertips trailing skin, lazy, warm kisses exchanged, as the sunlight moved across the room in sharp angles.

“I was thinking,” Jackson began quietly, stomach fluttering with an unexpected surge of nerves.

“Always dangerous,” Reid teased, pushing himself up against the headboard.

“Shut up,” Jackson said through a laugh, rolling his eyes fondly. “You know the sketch I drew on the back of your card?”

“How could I forget?” Reid dipped his head to capture Jackson’s lips with his own, a little more heat imbued than their previous sleep-hazed exchanges.

“Right,” Jackson said on the out breath, pulling back from Reid enough that he could see his eyes, gauge his expression. “I was wondering if you’d wanna sit for a proper one.”

“A proper one,” Reid repeated, brow furrowing a little.

“Yeah,” Jackson cupped Reid’s cheek, thumb brushing across his lips, smiling when Reid’s eyes fluttered closed at the simple, intimate contact. “I’d like to draw you properly, not just from memory.”

“Naked?”

“Yes, naked,” he whispered, leaning in just close enough for his breath to ghost Reid’s face yet still far back enough to read him.

“I…” Reid licked his lips, eyes fluttering open again, a little wide and a little uncertain. “I’ve never…I wouldn’t know…I’m…”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m not exactly beautiful,” Reid forced out, and Jackson’s stomach dropped.

For a moment he was frozen, unsure what to say, how to combat such a ridiculous statement. But when he saw Reid’s expression grow almost desperate, almost pained, he pushed himself up properly, turning to face Reid as he cupped his face between his hands.

“You are,” Jackson insisted, heart stuttering as Reid closed his eyes, this time in an attempt to shut him out as much as he could, hide the emotion he was so clearly feeling. “Look at me.”

Reid swallowed, hand coming up to grip Jackson’s wrist as though he were going to pull away, but he opened his eyes instead, grip loosening just a little, thumb pressed lightly over Jackson’s pulse point.

“You are beautiful,” he insisted, brushing a thumb across Reid’s cheekbone. “You are so damn beautiful to me that it hurts. Why else would I want to draw you? I wanna be able to look at you even when you’re not there.”

Reid swallowed again, gaze dropping, jaw working as he tried to reign his emotions in.

“Feel it,” Jackson whispered, ducking his head to meet Reid’s eyes again. “You’re allowed to feel things, Reid.”

Reid blinked rapidly against the tears forming in his eyes, but one slipped down his cheek anyway, catching on Jackson’s thumb on its way down. When the second tear fell, Jackson leaned in to kiss it away, letting his lips linger on Reid’s cheek for just a moment longer than necessary.

“I’m damaged, Jackson. Scarred. How can—how can you find this, find me, beautiful?”

Jackson sighed and pressed a kiss to Reid’s forehead before pressing their foreheads together, cupping the back of Reid’s neck.

“Your scars tell a story, Reid. They’re not ugly, not repulsive, not any of the things you’ve let yourself believe. They’re a part of you, just as beautiful as the rest if you. They tell me you’re strong, that you’re brave, that you survived.” He sighed, thumb brushing the side of Reid’s neck lightly. “I’ll never make you do something you’re uncomfortable with, Reid. Just think on it.”

Reid nodded, and Jackson thought he’d pull back, pull away from the intensity, the sincerity, the vulnerability of their conversation, but instead he leaned in to kiss Jackson, soft and tender as his hand slid into the back of Jackson’s hair.

“I love you,” Reid whispered, and Jackson was sure his heart nearly stopped at the words, words he genuinely never thought he’d hear from Reid’s lips.

“Fuck,” he said with a wet laugh, pulling Reid in close. “I love you, too.”

[undergrounddweller89]

Morning Routine

For @holdyhope

Post the game and Kale didn't die and Chai and Kale live together.

Their morning routine heh depending on their mood can be frisky, slow caresses, bodies entwined until they reach a moment of bliss.

But this morning the mood is sweet tender as Chai curls up to him , Kale can't help but play with the soft brown hair that tickles his nose.

"Come on now Chai, you know we have to get up today."

"Don't wanna...do we have to?"

Kale listened to Chai's whining, it was adorable really as Chai snuggled up closer to him, he himself didn't want to get up he was too comfortable and cursed that jobs existed.

"We do, I know I don't want to....how was it you put it...ah...yes, I don't want to Adult either, but alas we must."

Kale chuckled, brushing back Chai's hair and kissing his forehead, Chai looked up at him pouting with puppy eyes

"Put that bottom lip away before I bite it."

"Promise?"

Chai replied playfully, even though his eyes were still half closed from sleep.

Kale gave him a playful nip which had Chai squealing and blushing.

"Alright I'm getting up."

Kale didn't see Chai move at all.

"You're not moving though."

Chai looked at him with an eyebrow raised and a smile

Kale blinked and then scoffed

"Behave young man and get ready , we both have things to do today."

"We could do each other."

The younger man purred placing a hand on his chest.

Kale took him by the wrist and rolled them over

"Stop trying to get out of work by tempting me, I've purposely turned off my sensation receptors , because we know damn well I wouldn't be able to resist you and the things you do to me."

Kale chuckled leaning down and kissing him , slow and soft.

"I thought you said you couldn't feel anything?"

Chai's answered , cheeks flushed, having Kale on top of him like this was driving him crazy.

"Are you sure we can't just..."

Kale smirked

"I'll make an exception for you , you can take care of me later after work."

He purred against his ear , nipping at it, as a hand slipped under Chai's bed shirt ,his claws traced over Chai's chest , tinking lightly against the glass and across his belly down lower.

"Will you take care of me after work?"

Chai nodded , reaching up to touch his lover to hold his face and stroke his chest, he smiled , realising Kale was straight up lying he'd only turn everything off down below, the flushed cheeks gave him away but he wouldn't argue it as his lover caressed him so intimately.

(okay There's a little bit of spice shush)

After a few minutes Chai was curled up and holding onto Kale, whimpering and breathless.

Kale sampled the prize in his hand only to wipe the rest on Chai's shirt.

"Would you look at that you're all dirty now you have to get out of bed."

Chai rolled his eyes and laughed

"Love you to Kale."

Pulling his shirt off he was about to throw it on the floor

"Ah ah, we have a hamper in the bathroom, the floor is not your floordrobe or the dirty laundry basket."

Chai couldn't help but huff

"Fiiiiine."

As Kale sat on the edge of the bed , Chai took his chance to cling onto his back like a koala. A hand playing with Kale's hair and gently kissing the back of his neck

"Carry me?"

Kale looked across the room , the bathroom was adjoining, he shook his head a little and let him do as he pleased...damn it he was too soft on him.

"My own personal stallion."

Chai teased

"Say that again and I'll open my back panels and drop you."

Kale retorted.

"You wouldn't."

Kale scrubbed his face with a hand and laughed affectionately at Chai's response.

"I don't know, I might... alright now off my back and sit down on the toilet seat, you always splash."

Chai climbed down and made an offended sound at Kale's remark

"No I don't."

Kale who was getting his tooth brush looked at him with a raised brow and Chai felt like a guilty puppy.... because yes he did.

"Alright, alright, I'm sitting."

Parking his ass on the loo he balled up the shirt he still had aiming it for the hamper

"He shoots, he scores!"

Kale who was currently brushing his teeth just rolled his eyes smiling, damn it Chai was so fucking stupid cute , he needed to brush his teeth or he'd get cavities from how adorable he was.

After they freshened up in the bathroom.

Kale was dressing in his usual suit, purposely not facing Chai, he hadn't told him this but he liked being surprised by what random shirt his Lil Rockstar would put on, he wished he had half the confidence Chai did to just wear whatever he wanted.

"Hey Kale, where's my red scarf?"

"Behind the headboard after you used it to tie me up last night."

Kale bit his bottom lip at that, Chai was surprisingly good with knots

"Yeah that was funny, despite you being tied up I was still bottom."

Kale turned about to reply when he saw Chai ass up in the air , of course it was flat as a side walk, but it was still Chai's and well....he silently crept up behind him , he just couldn't resist, and spanked him, laughing at the squeal Chai let out

"You can get mad, it was worth it."

Chai smirked , wiggling his hips invitingly

"What if I said, harder Daddy?"

"Behave, I'll go make coffee you finish getting ready."

Chai moved to his knees on the bed and adjusted Kale's tie, pulling him in gently for a sweet kiss

"Alright, you know how I like my glace."

"Yes, more sugar than actual coffee."

Kale's hands slid around Chai's body holding him close, maybe he needed to kiss him just a little more, just a little deeper, eyes closed and tasting him, claws lightly pressing into his skin, Chai was temptation in itself to him, his resolve would crumble if he didn't let go.

"You gonna make your 'world famous' waffles this morning ?"

Kale asked hopefully, nuzzling Chai's cheek and neck and placing a kiss against his ear.

"Absolutely, busy day we're gonna need them."

Vandelay ruffled Chai's hair and reluctantly let him go

"Be out in five minutes then."

"Yes Master Vandelay, anything to service you."

Chai answered, his voice seductive and that playful little wave had Kale nearly walk back from the door and rip off the one item of clothing Chai was wearing.

Kale looked at him making a whining frustrated sound , stomped his foot and walked off.

Not five minutes later Chai came strolling out, not even wearing his scarf, he had a pair of blue jeans on , but ....he was wearing one if Kale's shirts half tucked in, tie loosely tied and one of his jackets with the sleeves rolled up.

Kale stared and stared, before pulling out a handkerchief and stabbing the dribble of blood coming from his nose.

"Damn it Chai you really are trying to get out of work this morning aren't you."

"I mean I could spend it under your desk."

"Chaaaai stop it."

Chai felt shivers go down his spine at the growl in Kale's voice, oh the things it did to him.

"Alright, alright I'll make the waffles and I'll be a good boy."

Kale inhaled slowly, he was not going to give into temptation no. Not again, this wasn't going to be their morning routine of Chai flirting with him into being late.

Another twenty minutes and Chai was plating up waffles , he'd been singing and shaking his hips to the song on the radio and Kale had watched him the entire time, trying to take his mind off of it , talking a out work , the weather.

Chai set Kale's breakfast down , golden brown waffles with a cinnamon and a scoop of ice cream, something Chai made when Kale was going to have an especially busy day.

With sliced strawberries.

Kale still marveled that Chai could cook but words like proposition were lost on him....

"There you go big guy, waffles with love."

Chai smiled warmly, kissing his cheek.

That was it , that was what did it, words of love with Chai's charm that Chai didn't even realise he had.

He could excuse why both of them were late.

Pulling Chai on his lap and kissing him he smiled, know what.

This was a wonderful morning routine.

[livelaughwhump]

Worthless - Part 16

Masterlist | Previous

Content: disordered eating, mention of vomiting, mention of past abuse, dehumanization, degradation, self-hatred, self-deprecation

If I missed any content warnings, please let me know!

-

Elliot was half asleep when he heard the gentle knock at his door. Still wrapped in his warm cocoon of blankets, he flinched, his eyes snapping open. It wasn't an aggressive sound, but it startled Elliot nonetheless.

"Elliot? Sweetheart, can I come in?" Broderick's voice called through the door.

Elliot curled up beneath his blankets soundlessly. He didn't want to see anyone. More than that, he didn't want anyone to see him.

However, when he didn't answer, Broderick opened the door anyway. Elliot closed his eyes and hid his face in his cocoon.

"It's just me," Broderick announced. "No one else is coming in." Elliot peeked up over his blankets, blue eyes ringed in red. Broderick flashed a sad smile his way. "I'm sorry if we overwhelmed you earlier. I didn't know the girls were gonna barge in like that, but it's just us this time."

Elliot didn't say anything, but the tightness with which he held the blankets around him loosened slightly.

Broderick awkwardly cleared his throat. "So...do you wanna talk about what happened? I know this can be a sensitive topic, so it's fine if you don't want to."

Elliot was silent for a beat, his eyes flitting everywhere across the room except to Broderick's.

Broderick sighed and sat himself in the chair he'd left beside Elliot's bed earlier. "Listen, I'm not going to judge you or belittle you or even force you to eat, but-but I do wanna help you. All I want is to help you."

Elliot shook his head and spoke for the first time since Broderick entered the room. "You can't help me," he mumbled. "I'm broken."

"You're not broken, El-"

"No, you-you don't understand," Elliot interrupted. "I'm broken!"

Broderick furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"

Elliot sniffled, but there were no tears in his eyes. "I-I can't eat anymore. My-My stupid body won't let me." Broderick didn't react. "Ev-Every time I try to-to eat, I-I throw it back up. I've-I've tried, r-really, I-I have. I just-I just can't." Elliot curled into an even tighter ball. "I'm broken," he whimpered.

Broderick watched him with sad eyes. "Has this happened before?" He asked.

Elliot glanced up at him. "Wh-What?"

"Has eating ever made you throw up before?" Broderick reiterated.

Elliot thought for a moment before his cheeks reddened. He nodded. "At-At the beginning of...wh-when Master started f-feeding me." Elliot refused to look at Broderick, training his gaze on his fidgeting hands instead.

"Well, what did he feed you?"

Elliot's face turned a deeper shade of red and his lip started quivering. He didn't want to answer. He was too ashamed and humiliated.

But why? It's more than you deserved. You're lucky Master even fed you at all, you stupid, worthless mutt

Elliot didn't want to cry. Crying in front of his friends never failed to spark guilt in the pit of his empty stomach.

"You're so pretty when you cry."

That's what Master had said. Elliot wondered if his friends would agree.

"Elliot?" Broderick called.

Elliot snapped back to reality, remembering the question he had been asked several minutes ago. "Oh, s-sorry," he mumbled.

"That's okay. You don't have to answer if it's too upsetting to remember. I understand."

No. Elliot wanted to be good. He wanted to do as he was told. But then again, it was such a painful, dehumanizing memory. Making decisions was never one of Elliot's skills, even before Christian. It had only gotten worse after him.

That's because your stupid animal brain isn't capable of thinking for itself. Pets exist to serve, not to make choices

Elliot sniffled again. "Will-Will it help you figure out what's wrong with me?"

Broderick shrugged, flashing a charming half-smile. "It wouldn't hurt."

Elliot frowned. Talking about his time with Christian unearthed so many painful memories, but Broderick had given him an order. Pets don't refuse orders.

"He-He f-fed me d-dog food," Elliot stammered. He didn't look up at the medic's expression, but he flinched, preparing to be laughed at or mocked.

Broderick's heart broke. "Oh." He didn't know what to say to that. Of course, he had known that Elliot had been treated like a dog, but Broderick hadn't suspected that he may have been fed like one. "I'm so sorry, Elliot. You didn't deserve to be treated like that."

Elliot looked like he was on the verge of tears. His lower lip started wobbling. "M-Master said it was g-good for me. He-He said it would k-keep me in my place."

Broderick shook his head. "That's not right," he mumbled.

Elliot sniffled. "I-I told you I was b-broken."

Broderick's hatred for Christian continued to grow. He shook his head again. "You're not broken, sweet. I think I know what's going on."

Elliot glanced up at the medic, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You-You do?"

Broderick nodded. "Dog food isnt made for human consumption and can result in foodbourne illness. When you first started eating what Christian gave you, your body knew something was wrong and rejected it. But as time went on, you eventually grew used to it. I think the same may be happening now that we're trying to reintroduce you to human food." Elliot's gaze wavered. "I'm hoping that this nausea will start to fade as you get more and more used to eating real food. It'll take some time, and we'll have to start small, but it should be a pretty easy fix. I can give you some anti-nausea medicine too, if that'll help."

Elliot was silent. He didn't react at all to anything Broderick said. Broderick tilted his head as he considered Elliot's blank expression. "You okay, sweet?"

Elliot's dull eyes lowered to his lap. "W-Wouldn't it be easier to just k-keep feeding me d-dog food?" He mumbled. "That-That way, I-I won't be such a-such a burden."

Broderick sighed, his chest and shoulders heaving with the motion. "Elliot, you are not, and never will be, a burden. No one is forcing us to help you. We want to because we're a family." Elliot cringed and glanced up. "I know it sounds cheesy, but it's true." Elliot didn't say anything after that. His gaze lowered once more and he began to fidget with his fluffy blanket. Broderick pursed his lips as he examined Elliot.

It hurt how much Elliot reminded Broderick of his little brothers, how small they were the last time he'd seen them. They were only twelve the last time Broderick had visited them, but that was years ago. For all he knew, they could've been seventeen by now, but it didn't matter. As much as he missed the twins, he'd probably never see them again. Not as long as his father was still in the picture.

Broderick shook the memory of his family out of his mind. Elliot hadn't moved. His shoulders were hunched, his head was lowered, and his fingers were still mindlessly tugging at his blanket.

Broderick forced a comforting smile onto his face, but it was weak and clearly fake. "Why don't I go make you something that'll be easy on your stomach?" Elliot didn't move. "When I was sick, my mom and step-dad would always make me soup with crackers, and it always made me feel better. Why don't I go make you some of the same?"

Those words made Elliot pause his fidgeting and look up at his friend. "Th-That...That sounds...nice."

Broderick raised his brows. "Yeah?"

"But-But, what if I can't keep it down?"

Broderick gently took hold of one of Elliot's quivering hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, sweet. We'll go slow, and remember, I'm not going to make you do anything you're not comfortable with. If you're not ready to try, or if you want to be alone, that's okay. It's completely up to you."

Elliot knew Broderick was just saying that. He could see it in his eyes. Broderick desperately wanted him to eat. A pang of guilt struck Elliot in the stomach as he gazed upon the sheer amount of worry in the medic's eyes.

Elliot bit down hard on his lower lip to keep it from trembling. He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand and said, "I-I want to try."

Broderick's face lit up with relief, and despite the anxiety churning in Elliot's stomach, he couldn't help but feel somewhat relieved as well.

"Okay," Broderick said, a wide smile splitting his face. "Then, I'll go make you some soup and crackers. You just relax and I'll be right back." Elliot nodded silently as Broderick left the room.

Elliot was left alone to his thoughts. There was a deep, gnawing ache in his stomach. Whether it was anxiety or hunger, he couldn't tell, but he hoped that just trying to eat human food would sate it, even if just a little.

. . .

"How is he?" Lyra asked the second Broderick left Elliot's room. Karine gently coaxed them back down onto the couch, but the concern painting Lyra's face didn't falter.

Broderick didn't know how to answer. "He's-He's okay." It wasn't completely true. "I'll tell you everything later, but right now, I'm going to make him something that'll be easy on his stomach."

Lyra furrowed their brows and followed Broderick into the kitchen. "What does that mean, 'easy on his stomach'?"

Broderick pulled out a can of chicken noodle soup from the cupboard and poured it into a pot on the stove. "It means, something that won't make him sick."

"So that's why he hasn't been eating? Because it's making him sick?"

Broderick groaned and rolled his eyes. "I thought I said I would talk to you about this later."

"I'm his best friend, Broderick."

"Then, ask him yourself. What happened to Elliot is his business. It's not mine to tell."

Lyra furrowed their brows. "Why are you being like this?" They asked. Broderick stared into the pot of soup, his jaw tight and his fists clenched. "Did something happen?"

There was a tightness in Broderick's chest. He took a deep breath to try to loosen it and turned his eyes toward the ceiling. He was furious. Thinking about how Elliot had been fed nothing but dog food for over a year made his blood boil. No one should be treated like that, least of all someone as kind and cheerful as Elliot. It broke Broderick's heart.

Broderick shook his head as he stirred the soup. "It's Elliot's business," he repeated. "Not mine." Lyra merely stared at him silently after that. Broderick wedged his bottom lip between his teeth to try to keep from crying. "I-I just wish there was more I could do for him. I'm the medic, and yet, there's nothing I can do about the amount of pain he's in."

Lyra nodded in understanding. "I get that," they mumbled. "But he's getting more comfortable around everyone. He's slowly getting better, and he's going to keep getting better as long as we keep helping him." Broderick didn't acknowledge that they'd spoken. He leaned against the counter and wordlessly stirred Elliot's soup. Lyra tiled their head. "Did Elliot tell you something?" Broderick nodded. "But you don't wanna tell me?"

"Like I said." Broderick ladled the soup into a bowl and pulled a bag of crackers out of a different cupboard. "It's his business. Not mine."

"Broderick..."

"I'm gonna go bring him his food."

. . .

It wasn't five minutes later that Broderick returned, this time holding a steaming bowl and a bag of crackers. The smell that wafted into Elliot's nose was delightful, and yet, it made his stomach churn.

"I made chicken noodle soup," Broderick announced as he sat at Elliot's bedside. "I hope that's okay. I figured it was the easiest thing to start with, eh?" Elliot eyed the food nervously, but he nodded. "You okay? Remember, you don't have to eat it if you don't want to."

Elliot pursed his lips. "But you already made it. I don't-I don't wanna waste it."

Broderick smiled. "If you don't eat it, I'm sure someone else will. Hell, I might even eat it. It won't go to waste, I promise."

Elliot's insides clenched and he swallowed the bile rising up his throat. He didn't have to do this. Broderick had told him he didn't have to do this, but by refusing to eat, wouldn't he be disobeying an order?

It's just soup, you pathetic mutt. What kind of worthless bitch is afraid of eating soup?

Elliot clenched his jaw to keep his lip from trembling. "O-Okay," he mumbled. His voice was small and pathetic. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just eat?

Broderick tilted his head. "Sweetheart, you don't have to do this. I'm not going to force you."

Elliot shook his head. "I-I can do it. I can be good. I wanna be good."

"You are good. Nothing is going to change that."

Elliot shrunk in on himself, glancing over at the steaming bowl in Broderick's hands out of the corner of his eye. "I-I don't think I can d-do it when-when you're watching me," he admitted, his voice growing even smaller than before.

Elliot expected Broderick to be angry, to shout at him or throw the scalding hot soup over his head, but the medic didn't do either of those things. Instead, he simply nodded in understanding. "Okay," he said. "Would you like me to leave?"

Elliot hunched his shoulders, his eyes growing misty.

Bad mutt!

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Broderick assured him. He slowly set the bowl and bag down on Elliot's nightstand and began to stand up from his seat. "I'll just set these over here. Take as long as you need. Or, if you don't want it, feel free to bring it back out to the kitchen, or just set it in front of your door and I'll come grab it, eh? I'll give you some privacy." With that, Broderick gently shut the door behind him and Elliot was alone again.

Elliot glanced at the bowl. He stared at it for a few seconds before taking it into his hands. With his weak muscles and the unease coursing through his body, Elliot was shocked he didn't drop the bowl before setting it in his lap.

Staring into the soup, there was less of it than Elliot had expected. Perhaps it was because Broderick wanted ease him into it. That was the only explanation he could come up with, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to believe that it was true.

It's just soup. I can do this

With shaking hands, Elliot brought a spoonful of the delightfully warm food to his lips and carefully drank it down. It was delicious and comforting and sparked a welcome warmth in his chest on the way down. Elliot waited a few seconds. His stomach gurgled and ached, but it ultimately accepted the food. Elliot felt his heart jump.

I did it

It was such a small feat, but one that he found himself growing immensely proud of. He didn't know exactly how long he'd been Christian's pet, how long he'd been forced to eat nothing but dog kibble on his hands and knees out of a tin bowl on the floor. This was the first time in so long that he was able to eat without feeling sick, and he couldn't help but feel proud of himself. He hoped his friends would be equally as proud of him too.

Elliot sighed in contentment and went in for a second bite.

-

If anyone is curious, Elliot has a type of eating disorder called ARFID (Avoidance/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder) which is basically an eating disorder in which an individual is extremely selective of what they eat (which is a gross oversimplification, but I'm not going to go into detail). In Elliot's case, this comes from a fear of throwing up, which developed as a result of a mild case of refeeding syndrome

Sorry this took so long. I've been struggling a bit lately with my mental health, so writing wasn't a huge priority of mine. Also, this topic is a sensitive one for me, since I have the same eating disorder I gave Elliot, but I thought it was important to touch on for Elliot's recovery

I hope you enjoyed!

Taglist:

@l-antre-des-merveilles @pigeonwhumps @nicolepascaline @burningkittypoet @whumpinggrounds @suffering-and-misery @make-them-scream @honeycollectswhump @rabass @whumpdreamz @clairelsonao3 @rosewriteswhump

If anyone wants to be added to or removed from the taglist, please let me know!😊

[tickle-bugs]

Ahh bug! You know I’m Weak for anything with Caleb Widogast 👀 Maybe with devious ler Molly? (And/or Essek 👀👀)

Oh drat forgot the second part of that—phrase to go along with Caleb/Molly (& also maybe Essek): “Come now, how are you still so *sensitive*, hmm?”

ily lexi mwah <3 also sorry if i have butchered ur boys but i still hope u enjoy this <3 started thinking about molly being overly cautious with courting caleb because his feelings are real and caleb being like. i wanna kiss you so bad please stop pretending to be normal. which led to this

Resonance

not rly nsfw but the first half is somewhat suggestive? intimate? *vague handwaving* just keep that in mind idk

Caleb’s not sure what they’re doing here, really. Molly’s draped and redraped himself over Caleb every which way for the past hour, but they haven’t gotten close to the substance of their evening’s meet. Caleb had long-since shucked his coat and scarf, but not quite the rest of his clothes--that was supposed to be Molly’s job, or so he thought. 

Molly’s invitation to join him for the evening had been whispered to him over a too-expensive glass of whiskey. Molly’s eyes were lidded, his forked tongue curled--Caleb had thought he’d read every sign correctly. But here they were. Stalled. 

“Mr. Mollymauk--” He tries, but Molly coos at him.

“So formal? I thought we were closer than that, dearest.” Molly blinks languidly and settles down properly atop Caleb. They both sink just slightly into the mattress as he does. Molly walks his fingers down Caleb’s abdomen, pauses at his waistband, then walks them back up. 

Always with the teasing.

“Mollymauk. Molly.” Caleb watches him warily. When claws don’t yet again touch down, he swallows and continues-- “What, ah, are you trying to accomplish here?” 

“I’m glad you asked. You see, I’m quite fond of you, Caleb.” Molly fiddles with one of his holster buckles. It catches the light of the inn lanterns in mesmerizing patterns far too grand for such dull brass. 

“Oh.” Caleb’s face grows warm. “I am…fond of you as well.” 

“Hm, thank you. I would hope so. Otherwise, this whole thing would be quite awkward.” Molly’s laugh is rich and boisterous. Caleb turns the tones of it over in his mind. 

“When you said you wanted, ah, companionship for the evening, I’d thought you meant--”

“Sex?” Molly’s tail sways behind him. “Is that what you’d like?”

“Did you…have something else in mind?” Caleb winces at his own indelicacy. Molly looks touched--no, maybe fond? It shouldn’t baffle him so much, he knows, but the visual proof is…unbalancing. 

“With you? Ideas beyond number.” Molly’s piercing gaze pins Caleb further still to the bed. He’s beautiful in an elusive sense. When Caleb gazes upon Molly, he gets the distinct sense that somehow he’s going to disappear, as if someone so breathtaking could only exist in tricks of the mind. 

Caleb’s face heats to a point of concern. Molly chuckles, low as the lamplight. 

“I digress.” Molly leans close enough for their noses to touch. “I’d like to conduct an experiment, Caleb. Involving you.”

“Oh?” Caleb cannot for the life of him keep his eyes away from the softness of Molly’s lips. 

“Yes, if you’d let me.” Molly’s hand finds his, both scarred in different ways. It’s one of the few times that feeling heat in the palm of his hand has been welcome. 

“Do what you will.” Caleb nods. 

“That’s the spirit.” Molly beams and pulls Caleb’s hand up his body, skirting along his thigh and the soft silk of his shirt, until finally their hands, as one, rest on his sternum. The warmth of Molly’s skin is a kiss that blooms. 

“You feel that?” Molly hums, and it resonates through Caleb’s fingertips. He’d always thought Molly was a bit thin, but the way breath moves through him…it reminds Caleb of Nott’s brief and consuming obsession with blowing into glass bottles like flutes. There’s a pitch to Molly’s resonance—not one he’s equipped to understand, but there nonetheless. 

“They say you can hear a soul best through laughter or through tears. I prefer the former.” Molly gestures flippantly, brushing his thumb over the back of Caleb’s hand. As he speaks, Caleb can feel the rise and fall of his breath, the resonance of his voice--as if Molly’s entire being has been shaped to carry sound to the very tip of his horns. The jewelry hanging from his ears and horns jingles of its own accord, like a windchime. 

He’s the loveliest windchime I’ve ever seen, Caleb thinks, a bit hysterical. 

“I want to hear what your soul sounds like, Caleb.” 

It’s so intimate and innocent that Caleb finds his breath utterly lost. He blinks up at Molly and tries to counteract the sudden and reeling incoherence of his mind. 

“Not the most resounding enthusiasm, but I understand.” Molly stands and brushes himself off. The aloofness of his tone is betrayed by the way he can’t seem to quite look at Caleb. It must be so easy for him to escape this way. Mollymauk, ever-balancing on a tightrope, with the most convincing lack of fear of falling.

“Wait!” Caleb grabs Molly’s wrist before he can slip away. Gently, he tugs him back down. Molly’s eyes shine alluringly in the dim. 

“I was…caught off guard. No one has ever expressed an interest of this kind to me before.” Caleb slides his hands up Molly’s thighs. He gives a comforting squeeze, at least what he hopes is comforting, and Molly twitches with a quiet laugh. 

“Shame.” Molly’s gaze roves over Caleb appreciatively, but not with the hunger he expects. It’s constructive. Encompassing. Warm. Caleb basks in it, even as Molly grows uncharacteristically quiet. He takes one of his claws between his teeth as his stare grows distant. 

“What is rattling through that brain of yours, hm?” Caleb knits his brow. Molly sits up a bit, stretching their intimate bubble. Caleb clenches his fist and concentrates on not keening after him. 

“How thoroughly I’m about to ruin the mood,” Molly mutters, likely not meaning for Caleb to hear. Caleb furrows his brow, but before he can speak, Molly kneads curiously into his stomach. 

A chuckle bubbles from a deep, unknowable place in Caleb, somewhere nestled just beyond the darkness clinging listlessly to his soul. Then another, then another, until his whole body is racked with quiet sounds he tries to smother. Claws trip maddeningly upwards to his ribs and Caleb cracks into snickers that overwhelm him with force. He slams his arms back down towards his sides and curls as much as physically possible. 

“Scheiße, Molly--”

“Do you want me to stop?” Molly stills, stiff and unnatural. He reminds Caleb of a wild hare, all of his muscles coiled and ready to flee--except for his tail, of course, which lashes in nonsensical patterns as if it has a life of its own. 

He’s nervous, Caleb realizes. How endearing. 

“Did I say ‘silvervine’?” Caleb huffs, still battling the wobbly smile on his face. Molly’s eyes widen.

“No, I suppose you didn’t.” Molly chuckles, shaking his head. Before Caleb can think to steel his defenses, Molly drags his claws down every inch of his captive torso that he can reach. Caleb jackknifes with the kind of giggles that fizzle in his lungs before they leave. It’s a maddening type of touch and he kind of wants more, but Molly continues in his steadfast teasing.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Caleb Widogast,” Molly murmurs, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. Caleb laughs into Molly’s mouth, soft as he imagined, and allows himself to fall slowly apart. 

…

Caleb’s love, it turns out, is born from the same place as his laughter. Both have become easy to coax into the light with time. Like weeds breaking free of cobblestone streets, love has gripped the hopeful parts of him and refused to let go. Love has made him all the things he feared it would--weak, compromised, and clouded--and he wouldn’t trade it for anything, mortal or otherwise.

“Liebling, I have research to complete.” Caleb pauses at the bookshelf, letting Molly coil his arms around him. Molly’s face finds its usual place between his shoulder blades for a moment before his hands slide a bit…lower. 

“Conveniently, so do I. My thesis is on the kinds of noises you’ll make when you’re overworked and I have time.” Molly’s breath curls hot against his ear. There’s a sweet center to the devilish lilt of his tone, though, and it makes Caleb smile. 

“I’d love to hear you defend this thesis of yours, hm?” He turns to face Molly and the full force of his pout. 

“You have utterly killed the mood,” Molly grumbles, but his tail is busy curling in content little loops. Caleb hums noncommittally and kisses him again, far more occupied about the way Molly’s cheeks squish between his hands when he smiles. 

“If you can be patient, perhaps I’ll make it up to you.” Caleb shifts his grip to hold Molly’s chin, brushing his thumb across his bottom lip. He likes the spark of excited desire that flashes through Molly’s eyes. 

“Promise?” 

“However you’d like.” Caleb kisses him once more, more to sate himself than anything. Molly throws himself upon the nearest divan with expedience. As he settles in among the cushions, Caleb thumbs through the nearby shelves and starts a stack of relevant texts on one of the worktables. 

The first hour rolls by without much event and by the second, Caleb is focused enough to ignore Molly’s dramatic sighs. By hour three, Caleb’s read what he needed. Some for research, some for pleasure, but he’s taken in enough to make his mind buzz.  

Molly’s arms wind around his waist and Caleb jumps, then settles.

“One of these days, I’ll put a bell on you.” Caleb reshelves a few tomes with a reverent hand. 

“Caleb, you must know by now that patience is not my strongest suit.” Molly presses his face between Caleb’s shoulderblades again. Caleb shivers from the very tips of his toes and bites back a chuckle. Molly tends to grow needy when he’s ignored, they both know this, but the varying levels of petulance always make things entertaining. 

“I am aware.” Caleb continues reshelving, a little faster now. Molly nuzzles into Caleb’s back again and, oh, he’s purring. That would be exceptionally sweet if Molly’s body didn’t carry the resonance like a tuning fork, right to the tips of his horns where they’re pressed into Caleb’s spine, making it tickle terribly. Caleb bites his lip and forces back the tide of laughter building in his shuddering chest. 

“Come now, darling. Are you still so sensitive? I can feel you trying not to laugh.” Molly drapes his arms over Caleb’s shoulders and speaks into his spine, languid but calculated. It’s a nonsensical question but Molly himself is nonsensical, just as much a trickster as the shadowed being to whom Jester accredits her mischief. 

“M-Mohohlly.” Caleb shivers, snickers jumping free in short and bright bursts. Caleb can hear Molly’s grin without needing to see it, but it doesn’t prepare him for the bundle of tiefling suddenly clambering atop his back. Molly should know better than this, really--Caleb has gotten stronger, but he is not strong. 

“You’ve kept me waiting all this time and you have nothing to say for yourself?” Molly unleashes a flurry of kisses behind Caleb’s ear and the dam falls before he has a chance to defend it. Breathy, frantic giggles flow from Caleb with a fervor, spinning around the two of them in the warm, empty library. 

“Well, that’s not a very good defense. We’ll have to work on that,” Molly grins, speaking directly into Caleb’s neck. Caleb squeals and doubles over, landing somewhere between Zemnian and Common as he tries to shake Molly loose. Molly laughs and tickles his stomach, sending Caleb snapping upright with a dangerous sway. 

“Tongue-tied already?” Molly leans back a dangerous amount, forcing Caleb to back up towards the divan to avoid a nasty fall. They collapse on it in a tangled heap of shouts and curses. Caleb immediately grabs Molly’s hip in his hand and starts murmuring an incantation. He can feel the gentle sparks of magic beginning to take effect--and Molly can too, if the sudden hitch in his breath is anything to go by. 

“Ah-ah, none of that. You casters never play fair.” Molly worms his fingers up, up, until he can fiddle with the ribs supporting Caleb’s beloved book holsters. The magic, along with Caleb, dissolves into sparks and high-pitched bouts of noise. Caleb writhes and shrieks, his hair flying loose of its ponytail and into disarray. Molly rubs his knuckles between the grooves of his ribs and Caleb arches with a shout. Molly laughs and starts tickling at the back of his ribs. 

They roll around like unruly kittens, kicking cushions every which way as if it were a sport. Molly still lands on top of him, breathless and vibrating with joy. He chirps something that sounds suspiciously like ‘squishy wizards’ before tickling up under Caleb’s arms, taking ample time to try and wiggle beneath the straps of the holsters. 

Caleb grabs at Molly’s thighs to brace himself, and Molly snorts. It’s a quiet sound, cushioned by soft laughter, but it’s there and it’s beautiful. Caleb knows Molly’s ticklish, of course--ample time with Jester has taught him what to expect of tieflings--but he’s never heard him make such an adorable noise before. 

“Mollymauk,” Caleb says, a little breathless, but he’s grinning wider than he ever thought possible. Molly’s nervous grin is delectable. 

“Surely we can talk about this--”

“I think you’ve talked enough, don’t you?” Caleb pulls Molly close by the ankle and starts kneading at his inner thigh. Molly wails, thrashing so hard that his top half slides off the divan and onto the floor. A slapdash mix of giggles, snorts, and wild cackles burst out of him, enough for Caleb to coo at him and bury his stubble into the stretched plane of Molly’s stomach. 

Molly muffles a blood-curdling shriek into a wayward cushion. Caleb laughs and tickles harder. 

“I have a thesis on the kinds of noises you’ll make--”

“C-Caleb!”

[arts-butthound]

Brother Antics drabble

I’ve been trying to work this piece into my fic for at least a year, year and a half, but I can never find where it fits best in this draft. But it’s too cute, too warm, to continue to sit in my Bits bin, so I’m putting it out here.

Written for my Mass Effect fic Sense and Salarian Ability, I throw at you “Tegan feels sad and goes to her older salarian brother for comfort.”

Tegan tried. She tried not to let the quiet set on top of her. Tried not to think on an adventure she wasn’t welcomed to. She went to the kitchen and began dishes- it’s nothing personal, Tegan- and got through half of them before her fingers wrinkled. This was normal. And it was fine. There were some schemes that her alien body would only draw attention to. She looked down at her hands, pink and pale, and wished they were any other color…or just had less fingers.

             Dull grey swam around her, dim lights lengthened her lonely shadow on the floor. Void black and easy to pretend it was anything else but hers. The red bled in from the windows. Outside light always screaming its existence when it wasn’t welcome. The light either too dull or too aggressive. The empty house creaked and moaned without its most prized tenant. It threatened to fall apart around everyone if Buun Tuna wasn’t there holding it up.

Quiet.

She stood in the hallway, waiting for something to happen.

But nothing did. The house remained standing even without most of its tenants.

The stairs creaked beneath her as she ascended, but down the hall, towards her room, felt so far away. So unwelcoming without Cetus there. So she walked only as far as Aelin and Vey’s door, listening for the sound of tools whirring or cranking, but there was nothing. Slowly she pushed the door open and peaked through. Aelin lay on his back on the bed, his breath steady and soft. Eyes closed. The red light that peaked passed the closed drapes melded into his red amphibian skin. Tegan entered, closing the door behind her and crossed the floor. Crawled up beside him and curled into the empty crook of his arm. Breathed in his familiar scent, and her mind was eased-if only slightly.

His hand shifted through her hair, slowly coming awake. She rubbed her face against him before resting on her side. She felt guilt for waking him, but grateful all the same. She rested her head in the hollow of his chest. His breathing softly shifted from sleep to waking underneath her ear, the weight of his arm comforting as it curled around her. Aelin slowly blinked as he came out of sleep. His eyes lacked focus, drooping still, as he came to see her from a far off place. “Hey, Petal.” The sound of a deep breath through his nose. “Wha’ time’s it?’

This kind of quiet…it was different from the lack of sound that had weighed down on her in the hall. Cold to warm. Sharp to rounded. Tegan listened to the fabric beneath her as she curled further into the crook of her brother’s hold. She rested her arm around his waist and locked them together. Listened to the hushed roar of muscles shifting under skin. His finger whispered across her brow and down the bridge of her nose. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’” She buried her face further into him. “Didn’t wanna wake you.”

The sound of a clock being lifted from the bedside table and set back down. “Mmm.” He hummed. “You sure?” He was already returning to the world of sleep, half way slipping back and only just grasping to wakefulness. Tegan nodded against him. His breathing began to sink towards resting once again.

Dust flitted in the air as tiny boats on a sea of light. “Aelin? Do you ever wish you weren’t a salarian?”

“Mmmnnoo?” Aelin yawned. “But then I can’t say I ever thought about it much.” He began to slowly peel his eyes open, looking at her through tired slits. “Do you sometimes wish I wasn’t a salarian?” His hand, the one not currently pinned under a small body with big eyes, began to scrub his face and neck-working to wake him faster.  Tegan looked at the faded discoloring around his eye and the fine scratches lining his jaw.

Again, Tegan shook her head.

“Cetus and Vey still outside?”

“They left on a job.”

Aelin robbed Tegan of his hold, turned on his side. He watched her for minutes in passing, and Tegan watched him in turn. “…Ah. I see.”  Neither said anything, their brows saying more with small movements than the spoken word could hope to achieve. “Do you have something you need to talk about?” His much longer hand, with its fewer fingers, encased her own, His thumb tapped the side of her wrist.

Tegan rested her forehead against the crest of his chest, hiding her face. “No, I’m good.”

“Mmhm.” She felt Aelin nod. His hand left hers and snaked around her back. “Want to hear the story of when Vey and I found you?” A smile snapped across narrow features, mischief and mirth lighting up his features.

Immediately, Tegan rolled over. “No! No I don’t. Not again!”

“Vey thought I was trying to keep you as a pet!”

“Aelin! Stop it!”

             She moved to get off the bed and flee. So many times she’d heard the story and so many times had she wished Aelin would pick a different one to tell. At this point it was tedious, told more for the sake of the ones who actually remembered the event. Aelin caught the hem of her shirt, pulled back to halt her escape.  She regretted the price of waking him up, even if it had been half of an accident. Aelin pushed himself up into a sitting position and trapped Tegan against his hollow chest with lanky arms. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “It’s such a cute story though.”

“Uuugh!” She squirmed to free herself. She only managed an arm.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.” Tegan could feel his jaw shift and smile.He kept her locked in his arms, the soft beating on his heart felt on her back. Annoying to be held immobile, an oldest brother’s greatest joy was to torment. “You talk to me when you need to, Petal. I’ll be here to listen.”

[devcted]

she thinks about how he told her he never loved anyone else, mostly referring to the fact he never loved daphne as she'd been the only girl he'd ever been with and bee shouldn't really question it because it's none of her business but it makes her feel almost bad for daphne. having regulus but not having his love seemed like its own form of torture. like your heart was being ripped out of your chest and crushed under weights...she knew what it was like to love him at a distance and that alone felt deadly.

but now wasn't the time about daphne or her father, the outside world didn't exist right now and bee was kind of enjoying the fact he was sitting in her bed like that, spotting the glass of pumpkin juice he'd been drinking and making himself comfortable just as she instructed, it kind of made her feel good that he listened to her, maybe he really would do anything she asked even if it was something so small.

bee blushes at his comment about her, shaking her head at his words. "well maybe you can enjoy that version of bee on our second date " she says teasingly, moving to sit next to him. "I am glad you like me at all, clean or not.." she doesn't miss his comment about her tasting good if anything it obviously makes hee blush as she shifts next to him. "wanna test it?" she's thought about his lips against her body, not just kissing her lips but her skin and then going even lower if he wanted to...but she's still confused about their relationship status. he has a secret he seemed to be convinced would drive her away and he hadn't exactly asked her to be his girlfriend either of course not that he had to even if they did just confess to one another moments ago.

she moves back in confusion as he pulls his hand away from her just so he could unbutton his shirt. "reg?" she blushes. she had never seen him shirtless before, usually he'd decline to go to the black lake and swim when all their friends had which she just assumed it was because he didn't wanna get dirty. he was always so well dressed, layers of clothes or nice sweaters, always long sleeve which left it mostly to the imagination. he takes his sweater off however and she doesn't even notice what's happening at first, staring at his slim frame, his skin was pale but it was beautiful, pink nipples and a slight hint of abs but nothing crazy which she liked because that means he would feel nice to snuggle up to..it's when he points it out that bee has to turn her attention to the serious situation.

the mark on his arm, everyone was aware of what it was but it's not something that ever felt real...the brand of a man who wanted to wipe out muggles and mubbleborn, someone like her own mother who had been the sweetest most talented witch she'd ever known. someone who was so powerful she had gotten the love of two wizards. it was hard for bree to understand why there were wizards who wanted her gone because of how she got here, because her blood wasn't considered "pure" and how they would only tolerate half bloods like bee so long as they submitted to these same ideals. it wasn't a shock to her that regulus had been a blood purest at some point, everyone knew about the black family and by extension malfoys, draco for one very open about it up until her attack last year to which she's pretty sure he gave her what was his version of an apology by checking up on her after she woken up and even giving her some of his sweets on the train back home as he visited her cabin.

it does break her heart a little, that there was a version of regulus that had believed people like her mom were unworthy of their world, wondering if he realized that she would be exist without a muggleborn but at the same time she remembers what her mother told her the first they heard of the rumors of regulus. despite bee not believing them emma still painted a view that many probably wouldn't. bee looks at regulus for a moment before reaching out and brushing a stray curl that sits against his forehead. "you were fifteen being told by a bunch of adults that something like this is honorable...that's not your fault regulus, you understand that right? any child would believe such a thing...it was your parents job to protect you from, this." she says as her had move down to brush her fingers against the mark. it makes her chest feel tight seeing it, but not so much because of the mark itself but because they branded a teenage boy with hatred. "for as long as I've known you you've always been so kind and caring, giving a poor stranger a bunch of cakes because her tummy grumbled on the train, defending others from being bullied...and I know you visited me often after I was attacked. pomfrey complained about it while I was recovering saying you were a real pain in her ass." bee laughs sadly. "and today, you came out looking for me despite knowing what I am...because you knew what I am and you loved me anyway." she smiles sadly. "and I love you despite what you were tricked into."

she doesn't miss the part where he plans to go up against voldemort and she what's to argue, tell him not to do it but her sweet serpent prince wouldn't be who he was if he wasn't selflessly stubborn. "I won't tell anyone but if you don't come back to me we're going to have huge problems." she says light heartedly, leaning up to nudge her nose against his as she rests her forehead to it. "we would make the world's most odd couple, rita skeeter herself would have a ball with the articles she could write." bee laughs trying to lighten the mood before pausing for a long moment to look in his forest green eyes. "I love you regulus black." words serious and more gentle as she brushes her lips against his own, leaning up to finally capture them in a loving kiss.

he doesn’t expect her to answer that she loved him on the first day too. it didn’t feel real to love someone so quickly, especially since they were fifteen at the time, but he knew the second she smiled at him that he would never get her out of his heart or mind. he needs her more than anything and it angers him knowing dean didn’t appreciate her enough. he even gave her a flower she was allergic to once. “i never loved anyone else,” he says in response. he wouldn’t call it love, what he had with daphne. “she might not tell it like that, though.” she was convinced they were made for each other, and even begged him to work it out when he dumped her. she didn’t like how much he visited bee when she was paralyzed, and she hated his depression over it even more.

she reiterates firmly that nothing could change her feelings and he wants to believe her more than anything. he wants to tell her what’s going on; how he transfigured a locket into being a duplicate of the one voldemort’s horcrux resides in, and he intends to plant it and take the real one soon. because of the inferi, it’s a dangerous task that could result in his own death. he wouldn’t withhold that from her, not after becoming so much closer. maybe if she knew everything he was doing to atone, she would forgive him for supporting an organization of people who supported what happened to her last year. 

she asks if he did research on her father and he shakes his head. “i know when the whomping willow was planted because i read ‘hogwarts: a history’. besides, the teachers talk about it all the time. if you ask him, professor binns will give you a ted talk on the exact place they purchased it from… it was just a lucky guess that professor lupin used it.” it makes sense, to him— a secret passageway to a shack with no windows and doors.

he listens to her quietly, thinking it’s sweet she still treats her wolf so kindly despite her struggles. “that’s mature of you.” he means it sincerely, impressed with her big heart. “that you still care about her being free.” it’s one of the many things he loves about her, because no one else is this caring. bee would struggle with losing control and being a werewolf, but she would continue to be herself and have empathy for all creatures no matter what.

she seems dissatisfied with his answer about not being hungry, taking out the pitcher of pumpkin juice for him. he looks up at her, eyes shining with affection as she leans toward him to kiss his cheek. it makes his stomach flutter, wishing he could have more of her. he stares at her lips even as she pulls back, wanting to kiss them. “thank you,” he says softly.

it isn’t until after she leaves that he gets up, taking one of the chipped glasses from the cabinet and getting some juice (mostly because bee insisted it). by the time she comes back out he’s sitting on her bed again, his jacket taken off and folded over the edge. she looks beautiful, her freshly scrubbed skin radiant and her thighs visible from beneath his large sweater. 

he looks over at her when she takes his hand, shifting closer to him as she sits on the bed. it makes him feel warm in different places, when her small hand touches his. he looks down as he intertwines his fingers with hers, giving a squeeze. “the whole dirt look was sexy and rugged… but i like the clean version of you, too. i bet you taste good.” her skin would be so soft if he kissed it all over, covering every spot.

he sighs, because he knows he has to tell her now. not sure where to start, he decides to just show her instead. letting go of her hand and tugging his sweater off, he rests it over his jacket, leaving himself shirtless. extending his left arm, he shows her the tattoo, glancing at her face as he expects to see horror. 

“the rumors about me are true. i was recruited in our first year and, i don’t know… my mother always made it sound like this honorable thing. everyone in my family treated him like he was some hero. but after what happened to you last year, and what i saw over the summer, i decided i’m going to leave. i used to think it made sense to keep muggleborns separate from us, but now i see how far they take it…” it wasn’t like the silly things draco always said; it was real people dying and being discriminated against. none of it would keep their kind safe and logically wizards couldn’t inbreed forever, either. “they say lord voldemort is dead or weakened and it’s sort of true. but really he just doesn’t have a body, currently– because of harry potter. but he uses this dark magic called a horcrux and it holds his soul, keeping him tethered here until he finds a way to create a new body. he’s been hinting about his arrangements to make one, so i can’t leave until i know exactly how. but after that, i have a plan to deal with the horcrux.” he frowns, falling quiet to await her reaction. “you have to promise not to repeat any of this– i don’t want you to be hurt.”

[aetheternity]

To tame a brat (Tighnari x reader)

A/N: Hello and welcome back to Callum needing bottom Nari. I have no idea if the world of Teyvat is progressive enough that cock rings even exist but I want so badly to write bratty bottom Nari wearing a cock ring so we're going to pretend this world has it or maybe that it was newly invented. This is basically just what I wrote for the second part of, I'm not stopping but like longer and in a different scenario. Consider this my little gift for kinktober. This is a repost!

Disclaimer: This is AFAB brat tamer reader x bottom Tighnari, This is for the adults only MDNI, this work has: Reader being called mistress, choking, a bit of degradation towards Tighnari. Proceed at your own risk.

Tighnari's breath escaped him. Once, twice as he laid below you. Pupils dilating in the peaks of moonlight filtering in between the half closed curtains. The tips of his ears dwindled and hung, tail near frantic as it swung while you continued to restrict his oxygen. Pleased by the tint of red filling his face.

"Why do you insist on making everything so difficult, Nari? You'd think with ears that big you'd know how to listen." Your grip loosens and it's enough for Tighnari to gag, choking down enough air to fill his once deprived lungs.

"You felt so good, Mistress." He panted "I simply couldn't contain myself."

You sigh with a soft roll of your eyes. When you lean closer you catch the smallest glimpse of a shiver crawling up his spine. "Hope it was worth it because now I have to punish you."

His recent orgasm pools down your inner thigh as you swing your leg over to climb off the bed. It only takes you about a minute but when you emerge from Tighnari's dresser it's with the cock ring you'd purchased only about a week ago (a ring Nari claims he despises but makes you use on him constantly.) and some slightly worn out rope.

"W-wait.. the ring.." He quickly scampers, inching towards the headboard. "I haven't been that bad please.."

You first wrap the rope around his wrists tightening the bind before knotting the other end around a part of the headboard. When you reach for the cock ring however Tighnari instinctively curls his tail over his lap pulling his legs up with it.

"Is that how you wanna play it?" You tsk "If you want to cum again at any point tonight I suggest you start behaving, Nari."

His breaths fall uneven, "Please.. wait, I don't need the cock ring." He shifts his hips away from your hands. "I really won't cum again until you allow me, Mistress."

You hook your arm beneath his thigh brushing his tail off. "Stop fidgeting." You huff "I'm not going to warn you again." The cock ring slips carefully into place earning a gentle gasp from Tighnari. With it nice and snug against the base of his cock, you slide back to your place between his thighs. Nearly rolling your eyes at the slick heat that instantly floods your stomach. His cock head soon buried to the hilt within your overly sensitive walls. "Maybe if you make me cum like a good boy I'll let you orgasm."

His wrists tug at the restraints over the first easy grind of your hips. A whimper of your name quickly following the ever so teasing grind of you atop him.

"Mistress, I want to hold your waist.." His legs tremble, buckling beneath you. I need.. need to touch you.." He groaned

"Earn it." You lean in, far enough for your breath to make his ears twitch. "Show me what a sorry boy you can be."

The fur of his tail glides so smoothly between your fingers as you hold it down with minimal pressure. Noting the way it tensed and squirmed beneath your hold as you arched your back to take him as deep as possible. A sigh of pure pleasure flowing so easily off your lips. That familiar sensation slowly making its presence known in the deepest pit of your core.

Your hands soon find new purchase in the center of Tighnari's chest spreading your legs further apart to get him really riled up beneath you. The slaps of your skin meeting so abruptly it causes your head to spin. Your index finger sliding up to flick one of his pinkened nipples. He can't even begin to hold back his moans at this point, a cacophony of misplaced syllables flying off his lips. You can't hide your smile.

"M-Mistress.." A smile, followed swiftly by a grunt from the depths of his throat. "Mistress.. I can feel it.. I'm so close.." Another moan followed by an array of curses. His breath catches as you slip a hand around his throat.

"Nearly there Nari." Your own breath catches as his hips start to buck, matching yours. Your body shudders deeply and you tense perfectly around his too sensitive cock. "I'm gonna cum.."

The sensation of your walls contracting has Tighnari buckling from the pressure. His back arching, begging for even the smallest bit of that orgasm he couldn't quite reach. A loud unmasked huff falling off his lips as your high slowly washed off of you. Pooling between the place where you're both joined. Within a couple seconds you've got a steady pace going once again. Tighnari's ears flexing as he whimpers in need.

"Mistress.."

"Stop begging already.. you know exactly what I want.."

The headboard bangs with Tighnari's unexpected tugging, each movement of his hips growing more and more sloppy.

"I.. shouldn't have cum.. without permission." His voice breaks, echoing nicely off the walls.

"Keep going sweetie.."

"I want to hold you.. please.. I want to breed you and.. hold you please allow me.."

"Now was that so hard?" You slip a finger beneath the rope. Loosening the restraint with one hand. His wrists instantly fall from the loose ties, curving up your back before retreating to your ass. His tail quickly following wrapping as snuggly as it could around your bare waist.

Each rut of your hips snags a new ragged sound from Tighnari's raspy throat. His eyes curving to the skies every time the tip of his cock brushes your cervix. Your hand slides behind his head to scratch at that all too familiar spot. That spot that makes him come completely undone. Your favorite words spill off his lips, barely strung together as he begged you to cum. The bed creaking awkwardly amongst his rowdy uneven thrusts.

You release his cock just enough to tug the cock ring off of him. Humming softly at the pleasured sigh of relief he couldn't contain. The dig of his nails was instantly intense the moment you slid all the way back down. Bottoming out long enough to inhale. Barely able to exhale as he thrusts into you full force without even the smallest word of warning.

"Nari.. ask, sweetie."

"Mistress.. let me cum please.. I've been a good boy.. right?"

Your smirk is hard to contain, "Cum for me."

The drawn out syllables of the word fuck are nearly drowned out. Barely registering over the swift clap of his hips and complaints from the rocking bed. His raucous calls for his mistress far above the rest. Overwhelmed by the pleasure deep within your core, you shudder and shake above him. Your thighs clasping so tightly around him. Eyes curling back so hard you feel as though they've poked your brain. His own shudder beneath you not quelling until he's finished pumping you full of cum.

Whimpers and gasps all slowly quieting as he clung to you. Requesting every ounce of your warmth with both arms draping around your torso. Those pretty cheeks of his flooded red with color. Breaths so soft and inaudible as he stares up at you with pure awe. You lean in, lips pecking the bridge of his nose. You can already see the lull of sleep starting to overtake him. So you join in. Laying your fatigue on top of his, his heartbeat still so reckless where it hammers his ribcage.

You wrench enough energy up to kiss his chin, and damp neck. The warmth of it all so soothing you don't even recognize you've already drifted off.

[gaysimpsstuff]

Could I get a Hawks in his rut headcanon?

No problem, Anon! I’m sorry this took so long, I wanted it to be perfect since I really like thinking about Hawks’ avian traits, and I know people really like it too. I hope it’s good! 

Hawks Rut Headcannons

Genre: fluff, smut

Type: headcannons (so... many... headcannons)

Warnings: animal traits, Keigo being possessive af, the commission being assholes, sickness, food, breeding kink, lots of horny times

Other: most of this is based off of real research, but some of it also comes from personal preference. @keilemlucent and their fic Best Nest very much inspired many other headcannons, check them outI They’re one of my favorite creators, and the linked fanfic is one of my favorites! Hope it’s okay I tagged you here lmao

NSFW Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy (Lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the Taglist)

Remember to check if requests are open before sending in a request. This was made while requests were still open.

Pre-Rut Behaviors

Grooming and Preening

Before his rut, Keigo starts to feel dirty. He just seems to accumulate more dust and dirt during hero work than usual. He’ll come back home grumbling about blood in his hair and little bits of concrete in/on his skin.

He will insist you clean him off. So you get to brush his hair, put creams on his face, and wash him off in the shower.

Finally, there’s the preening. If he lets you preen his wings, then you know he’s in it for life. He loves and trusts you with everything he has. 

Expect him to press his nose against yours a lot.

Possessiveness and Protection

You’ll notice he gets more clingy, more possessive of you. He gets really controlling in the days leading up to his rut, so you’ll be annoyed a  l o t.

Just text all your friends and family that you’ve been swamped at work, it’d be a little weird to say “hey guys, sorry I can’t hang out, my boyfriend’s horomones are crazy right now and he gets really insecure if I so much as exist near anyone but him.”

You would come home from work and he’s already on you, sniffing your body to see who you’ve been around, and to see if any of them were attracted to you at all.

If he had any kind of sneaking suspicion that anyone posed a threat, he’s literally laying on you and rolling on top of you to try and get his scent on you. Even if no one will smell it except him, he’s gonna do it.

He’s so protective of you, and if something tiny hurts you or makes you upset...

He.

Is.

Angry.

Someone was rude to you? He’s screaming at them.

Someone tries to hurt or touch you? You’ve got to hold him back to stop him from ripping that person apart limb from limb.

All that x100 when he’s approaching his rut.

One person accidentally bumps into you? He takes it as passive aggressiveness even if they’re very apologetic about it.

You stub your toe on a table? He’s smashed the table and burnt it then thrown the ashes in the ocean. 

If you’re sad about something he can’t beat up, he feels horrible. He’s not the best at comforting people, so he’s just grabbing onto you and not letting go, telling you how much he loves and cares for you, and just how amazing you make his life feel.

If you don’t give him enough attention, he gets really huffy, and it gets worse leading up to his rut. 

You lifted your hands from his head to reach for your buzzing phone? He’s already whining and pouting and begging you to give him more head-pats again.

Nesting

He’ll leave hints asking for you to make a nest, usually saying things like “Our bed needs some changing, don’t you think?” “Don’t you wish our space was more personalized?” 

If you don’t get the hint, he’ll be very sad, and he thinks you’re rejecting him. So you’d better be good at reading into things and realizing he’s approaching mating season and wants you to build a nest.

He comes home one day and sees you piled blankets, pillows, and dirty clothes in the living room, sprayed with his cologne and you’re cologne and/or perfume. He pulls you into his arms and spins around with you, giggling and laughing.

He’s so happy you made a nest for the two of you. 

He starts putting pretty shiny things he likes around the nest. Your toothbrush went missing and you found it in the mountain that was your nest.

Once, you were in desperate need of a clean shirt, and the only clean shirt you could find was in the nest. So you picked it up to put it on, and two seconds later, Keigo was in front of you, hands in your shirt, staring at you with such a fierce intensity, you felt almost like a villain.

He was very mad at you for taking things from your shared nest.

He leaves feathers all around the penthouse, but they’re all piled mostly around the nest, they’re for your protection so don’t try and throw them away.

Noises

He also gets really noisy, so he’ll be ‘singing’ and squawking and cooing constantly. He feels really bad about it so he might get you some noise-blocking headphones for when he’s screeching into the sky in the dead of night about how “THIS IS MY FUCKING TERRITORY Y’ALL MOTHERFUCKERS STAY AWAYYYY!”

You really think bird’s springtime songs are about love? Nah he’s mostly screaming about how he’s gonna fuck his partner and how the neighborhood  practically belongs to him.

Someone called the police once, tired of all the shouting, but the officers backed off when they saw who was doing all the shouting. Most of your neighbors are used to the screaming during early spring.

Rut End-game

On the third and second to last day before his rut, he gets a sudden burst of energy and an increased appetite. He refuses to eat anything unless you’ve made it though, so let’s best hope you can cook at least a little.

When he was younger, his hungry times before his rut were spent either eating anything and everything he can get his hands on. The commission broke that behavior very quickly though, so he’d starve himself before his rut, which would result in him getting very sick from a lack of energy and sustenance. That plus the extreme arousal was a recipe for pain and suffering.

So when you noticed he suddenly stopped eating, you insisted on making food for him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him go hungry ever. That was the first rut in years that didn’t feel like torture.

You’re cooking almost all the time, and he’s constantly eating everything you give him, running around from room to room while he waits for his next meal. He’s basically a hobbit.

In the last day or two before his rut, he suddenly has no energy, and starts getting hot and cold flashes. He’s sniffling, curled up in your shared nest, dirty tissues surrounding him. He comes in and out of consciosness, and when he’s awake, he’s whining and complaining about exhaustion and aches.

Physical Changes

Most of these happen in the last few days leading up to his rut, so it’ll be very sudden. These physical changes is what causes the extreme hunger and sickness.

His feathers darken several shades, and they become super sensitive. They also seem to grow in size, so when you cuddle, you’re smothered by them more than usual.

He also gains an extra couple inches in height, so expect some teasing now that he’s just that little bit taller. His hair also gets thicker and stronger, that’s so you can pull on it when he fucks you.

His nails get longer and darker, and they’re impossible to file or cut. So when he holds you and touches you, he often scratches you on accident. He’s really apologetic about it, but honestly you could totally paint his nails and pretend they’re acrylics if you’re into that.

His teeth get sharper, and he starts biting you just for fun. Bites your finger, hand, wrist, neck, even your nose. He underestimated just how strong his teeth are, and he made you bleed first time he bit you.

His whole body is very sensitive, so head-pats, back rubs, wings, and even his touching his feet can get him to the verge of cumming.

his tongue is longer, and it’s a whole lot stronger. He could probably carry a full plastic water bottle with his tongue (which isn’t a lot, but for a tongue it’s very much a lot).

His voice drops a whole octave and a half- mans is sounding almost like Corpse now. Maybe Markiplier? Anyways, if you’ve got a voice kink, you’re in luck

His dick changes too, it gets bigger, and he grows a lump at the base of it, between his shaft and balls. His balls get smaller until they’re barely noticable beneath what he calls him ‘knot.’

His eyes become sharper too, so don’t try and hide anything from him. 

Rut (MAJOR NSFW)

Everyone already knows Keigo has a breeding kink, but he hasn’t brought it up with you until now. It just kind of- happens. As he’s drilling into you, he suddenly starts blabbering about fucking a kid into you, and how hot you’d look all round with his kids. Might be a little weird for those of you who physically cannot give birth to children (my lovely AMABS and infertile AFABS). 

He can’t control it, so it’s especially weird if you don’t even want kids. If you can get pregnant, you’d better double check that you’re taking your birth control. And get to know some good clinics just in case.

However, if you do want kids, if you want to start a biological family woth Keigo, fuck. You will not be able to handle his happiness and horniness in that moment when you beg him to get you pregnant.

He is going to mark you up. Hickies, bruises, hand prints, bite marks, plus his scent. He needs everyone to know that you are his. He wants to claim you, make sure you know you belong to him. No one else can have you but him.

Halfway through your fuckfest, he starts making animalistic noises. He’s growling, roaring, whining, chirping, etc. This is around the time when he stops thinking about you, so he’ll really rough you up during this phase.

This man was a virgin before you, so this is also the first rut he’s ever going to have with another person, so he’ll hold himself back a lot. He needs you to reassure him at every step, tell him how good you feel, how you want him to fuck you, how not only are you okay with him going all out, you want him too.

Did he just cum? You think you’re finished? HA! No way in fucking hell is he finished after one, two, five, ten... so many rounds. He just keeps going and going and going and how the fuck is he still hard? He cums so fucking quickly, so much, and then keeps going.

When he finally does go soft, his whole personality changes. it’s like he didn’t just fuck you stupid. He immediately goes into ‘protect’ mode, which includes cuddles, him spoon-feeding you, petting you like a dog, and singing to you.

He puts the nest near a window so he can keep an eye out for possible threats. Just like “gotta keep mate safe. Is that the mailman? NO FUCK NO GET OUT OF HEREEEE!” 

One moment, he’s fucking you, and the next he’s leaning halfway out the window, screaming at some poor dude walking his dog. Remember, he’s still naked. You learned your lesson after that and kept the windows locked, and warned the neighbors to stay out of sight of the window, at least for the time being.

You’re going to feel very dirty, because he does not want you cleaning off the sweat, cum, and tears from your body. He likes that you smell like him, and you washing it off makes him feel rejected. 

He’s going to break a lot of things, so move pictures and vases into another room and lock the fuck out of that room. Or else he will break all of it.

He thinks any clothes you’re wearing are mocking him, so wear clothes you hate when his rut starts, then get used to being naked for a couple days. 

Oh yeah, his whole rut lasts one to five days. He’s fucking you for about three days on average.

He fucks you until you faint, and then keeps going until he’s out of ‘fuck’ mode and into ‘protect’ mode. A few times, he fucked you unconscious in the middle of the afternoon and then kept fucking you until the sun rose. 

Yeah, he’s got that much energy.

Don’t worry, during the whole time, he lets out pheromones with a strong vanilla-chocolaty scent that keeps your body and mind relaxed. 

There’ve been times when he’s just fucking into you and your water bottle is just out of reach.

During his rut, he has no shame. Let’s hope your walls are soundproofed, or else your neighbors will all know how he fucks you. 

He will not restrain you or hurt you in any way during his rut. So no degredation, no collars or chains, the only thing keeping you in the nest is his weight on top of you.

He gets upset if you try to touch yourself, things it’s you trying to tell him that he’s not satisfying you enough. 

He wants you to cum as many times as him, which is difficult because of his increased sensitivity, so he’s using every skill he knows to get you cumming again and again and again.

Most of the time, he’s going hard, rough, and spilling absolute filth from his cock and mouth, but in the last few hours of his rut, he suddenly gets emotional.

He’s rocking up against you, holding you close to his body and blabbering about you

How much he loves you

How good you make him feel

How he wouldn’t want anyone else by his side for his rut

How you’re his mate for life

How he’ll protect you and keep you safe.

Please be gentle with him, he’s very vulnerable near the end of his rut, and he’ll cry very easily.

When he’s nearing his last load, he makes out with you sloppily, trying to talk as he shoves his tongue down your throat.

He finishes off by  pushing his knot all the way inside you, and stays there for an hour.

This is the softest moment, and he’s covering your body in kisses. 

His knot pushes these small eggs inside you, and you have the lovely job of pushing them all out the next day. 

Post Rut

When his knot deflates, he finally pulls out and starts cleaning you off. 

He’ll carry you around and finally gives you a bath, constantly making sure you’re okay.

He’ll give you lots of massages and he’ll cook for you. He’s constantly thanking you for helping him, telling you he didn’t deserve it.

Just kiss him on the cheek, tell him you had fun, and that you love him so very very much.

He needs the most reassurance now than ever before.

He’s also very tired, so you’ll be taking care of each other.

Then his ‘post-rut’ resets, and he sleeps for hours.

Then he gets super hungry, and the two of you make huge meals and just kinda binge eat for a day or two.

Then his physical changes go back to normal, and you have a happy lil bird boy who simps for you so hard